


Danganronpa: Ultimate School Mode

by Curious_Cosmonaut



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Realistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curious_Cosmonaut/pseuds/Curious_Cosmonaut
Summary: Mukuro Ikusaba has never considered herself anything more than an instrument of her sister. Makoto Naegi has never considered himself anything more than an average kid. High school is a big enough leap, but the two of them will be thrown into one of the most unusual high schools in the world - Hope's Peak Academy. The two must adopt to life at the Academy and find out who they want to be. Along the way, they'll make friends, mistakes, and memories.The only problem? A plan to cause the most tragic event in human history.Cheerful, isn't it?
Relationships: Asahina Aoi & Maizono Sayaka, Asahina Aoi & Ogami Sakura, Ikusaba Mukuro/Naegi Makoto, Ishimaru Kiyotaka & Oowada Mondo, Kirigiri Kyoko & Naegi Makoto, Maizono Sayaka & Naegi Makoto
Comments: 58
Kudos: 107





	1. Hello Despair

Atop a building overlooking the National Diet, Mukuro observed the Diet’s entrance through binoculars. The air was crisp, but not cold, with minimal wind interference. The target would probably not feel the need to don a heavy coat or other clothing that would confuse their identity. Over the course of two weeks’ observation, the target had exited the National Diet Building through the entrance seven of the ten days the Diet was in session. Three of those times they were delayed, presumably in meetings or talking informally. However, on both Fridays, the target left the Diet on time with three associates. Mukuro had chosen this day to execute her mission.

She would have preferred to eliminate the target at some other point in their routine, but Junko had insisted that the shooting take place at the Diet. This would make the government look even more inept in the days to come. The government had increased security around the Diet in recent months, but a few dozen extra guards would not foil the Ultimate Soldier. Mukuro lowered the binoculars and looked back at the rooftop stairwell, where two guards lay dead against the door.

Time was of the essence here.

Eventually, the former guards’ superior would conduct a radio check-in for every soldier on the perimeter. Once that happened, a squad would be dispatched to check on the dead men, and once they discovered the corpses, the Diet would be locked down. No Diet member would be allowed to leave. Security would set up a cordon and begin searching the area. In short, her chances of executing the mission successfully- not to mention escape- would slim the longer the target failed to appear.

The time approached. Mukuro set her tactical bag down, unzipped it, and brought out the components of her portable rifle. She assembled it piece by piece, then set up her sandbags. Mukuro propped her rifle and adjusted for wind and elevation. She was eight hundred meters from where the target should appear. A guard radio was on the ground next to her. She would know as soon as the security officer conducted the check-in.

Diet members began to exit the building in groups. The group she was looking for consisted of three men and one woman. The target was the minister for finance, who sported a small mustache. He wore glasses and had always carried an expensive-looking black leather briefcase. Mukuro scanned the groups coming out of the Diet.

Her eyes narrowed. There was a group of three people emerging. Two clean-shaven men, and one woman who matched the group she had observed exiting with the target before. But where was he? She continued looking around, but there was no sign of him. Perhaps he was in a meeting, or had left by another route this time? If it came to it, a second infiltration would be much more difficult.

The radio buzzed. Mukuro bit her lip as a commanding voice came over the radio. “Unit 15, come in. Unit 15, come in.”

She again surveyed the clusters of people emerging from the Diet. No group bore as strong a resemblance to the finance minister’s usual associates than the first she had observed, yet the target had not appeared.

“Unit 15, if you don’t report in, we’ll have to send a squad out. If you’re sleeping on the job there’ll be hell to pay.”

Mukuro considered her options. She probably had another fifteen minutes before a security squad reached her position. If the target was in a meeting, it could be half an hour’s delay or more, judging from her previous observations. Her chances of escape would slim the longer she lingered.

Still, she was a professional. There was no question of giving up so easily. Perhaps the target had been accosted by another Diet member for a brief conversation, or been delayed in some other small way. No, leaving now would be premature. Mukuro adjusted her aim and waited.

“Unit 15? Unit 15? Ugh... send a squad up there to make sure they’re okay. Double time.”

The radio cut out. Even the safest posting for a soldier always brought a degree of danger, Mukuro reflected. The corpses behind her had just been extremely unlucky to cross her path. She felt no remorse at the guards’ deaths; all soldiers should be prepared to die in the line of duty, after all. Still, the sheer unfairness of their demise tugged at her. Nevertheless, she had resignedherself to the suffering she inflicted on others at her sister’s behest long ago.

Suddenly, a lone man jogged out of the Diet carrying a black briefcase. He raised his hand and waved, he seemed to be calling to someone. He continued to jog forward, weaving through the groups exiting the Diet and waving his hand again. The group Mukuro first pegged as her target’s usual group stopped and turned to face the newcomer.

Mukuro’s eyes narrowed again. A small moustache. Glasses. An expensive-looking black leather briefcase. Calling out to the target’s usual companions. The newcomer had to be the target. Mukuro again adjusted for the wind, which had picked up slightly, and adjusted the distance to match the minister’s brisk pace. She maneuvered the scope into position, taking aim and focusing intently on the target. She held her breath. The target slowed down as he approached his associates, arms wide open in a gesture of greeting. Mukuro could hear her own pulse. Her finger closed in on the trigger.

*BANG*

The rifle kicked back, and Mukuro saw the target’s head explode in a gruesome shower of blood and bone fragments. More terrible still were the reactions of the people around the scene, who screamed, ran for cover, or most stupidly tried to pinpoint where the shot had come from. One of the target’s group had fallen to their knees, the other having run for cover. The pool of blood spread across the intricate brickwork of the Diet boulevard. Security forces began to rush in, bringing the terrified onlookers into the Diet Building for cover.

But these things were of no concern to Mukuro. Her mission had been accomplished.

The radio was abuzz with frantic soldiers reporting in and the commanding officer yelling orders. Disassembling her rifle, she packed it away along with the sandbags. Shouldering her equipment pack, she made her way back to the stairwell, near which was the grapple and rope she had used to scale the building. She had double checked her escape route in the weeks before, and it was fairly straightforward. Mukuro had disabled the two CCTV cameras along the way before she had arrived, but just in case donned a tactical mask and suit. These would disguise her identity from any unseen cameras or prying eyes. She would make her way to a nearby apartment, conceal her gear, and be on her way. After that, whether or not she was stopped by the security cordon was irrelevant.

She cast one last look at the bodies lying against the stairwell, faces pallid and ghoulish in the soft evening light, before looking back to the grapple and sliding down the rope. Looking up and down the alleyway, Mukuro disappeared into the growing darkness.

–

During homeroom, Makoto Naegi sat at his desk, head down, still in shock from a letter he had received the night before. He had received an envelope from the famous Hope’s Peak Academy, inviting him to attend the school as the “Ultimate Lucky Student”. Apparently, he had won the school’s lottery selection. His family had been overjoyed, but he felt numb. There was no hope of staying with his middle school friends now, and there was no way an ordinary kid like him was going to fit in with a bunch of Ultimates. Those guys had all sorts of crazy talents, and all he had going for him was dumb luck. Was luck even a talent, really?

Still, he supposed he should be thankful. Anyone who went to Hope’s Peak was said to be set for life.

“Hey Makoto, you got the algebra homework from last night?”

Makoto’s friend Takuya stood by his desk, an impish smile on his face. Makoto reluctantly raised his head.

“Yeah, in my bag. Feel free to get it out.” His head dropped back down.

Takuya dropped into the seat next to Makoto’s, eyebrows raised. “You have a long night or something? You seem pretty out of it.”

Makoto turned his head towards Takuya. “No, I just got some interesting news. You remember that lottery we all entered back when the semester started?”

Takuya stroked his chin, then sighed. “No, I actually don’t. I can barely remember what happened last week, let alone the beginning of the semester. What was it for? Did you win something?”

“Yeah, I got invited to Hope’s Peak Academy as their ‘Ultimate Lucky Student’, but is that really a talent? I mean, it’s just a lottery, right?”

Takuya’s eyes widened in excitement and he clapped Makoto on the shoulder. “Dude, that’s nuts! Congratulations! And why wouldn’t luck be a talent? If nothing else, you’ve got sheer improbability on your side. It’s like winning the actual lottery, you know?”

He smiled and put his arms behind his head, leaning back. “Damn, my man Makoto going on to bigger and better things.” He put his hand to his mouth conspiratorially and whispered “Just don’t forget me when you make it big, okay?”

“It’s not that big a deal, Takuya. I’m still just an ordinary guy, you know?”

“Not a big deal? Makoto, you’re probably set for life.” Takuya put his feet up on the desk. “It feels good to have friends in high places.”

“Geez, you never quit, do you? Here’s the algebra.” Makoto pulled his notebook out and handed it to Takuya.

Takuya laughed. “My connections are already paying off! Thanks.”

As Takuya copied the homework, Makoto found that Takuya’s words had taken the edge off his apprehension. He relaxed a little. All he could do was be himself, and surely, he could make at least one friend at Hope’s Peak. Sure, the students there were Ultimates, but they were also students like him, right?

Two girls were whispering at their desks nearby. Makoto listened in semi-consciously as he fiddled with his pencil.

“–actually got invited to Hope’s Peak. From our high school! How crazy is that?”

Makoto’s eyes widened. Did they overhear his conversation with Takuya? He supposed he hadn’t really been trying to be quiet.

“I know! I mean, I know she’s a famous idol, but who knew those old guys at Hope’s Peak even knew how good her music was! What do you think her title is, Ultimate Musician?”

Makoto breathed. He supposed it was conceited of him to think the girls were talking about him. Still, who _were_ they talking about?”

“Nah, she’s definitely the Ultimate Singer! Musician’s way too vague.”

“Maybe, but is she really the best singer in the country?”

“Definitely! Name someone better.”

Makoto felt stupid. There was only one idol at Sixth Black Root Middle School, and that was Sayaka Maizono. He almost never saw her around, but she was the most popular girl in school.

That reassured him a little. Sayaka might be an Ultimate, but she got along quite well at Black Root. Makoto hoped that meant he could accomplish the reverse – making friends among a crowd of Ultimates. Maybe he should do some research on his Ultimate classmates. That might make conversing with them a little easier. Perhaps it was a little strange to research your own classmates before even attending high school, but then, what was normal about Hope’s Peak?

Takuya tapped his shoulder. “Thanks again Makoto, you’re a lifesaver.”

Makoto turned and took his notebook from Takuya’s outstretched hand. “You know, you shouldn’t make a habit of this once we’re in high school. I don’t think the curriculum at Hope’s Peak is going to match the one at your new high school.”

Takuya put his hands up and smiled. “I know, I know. You’re a surprisingly diligent student, Makoto. I don’t know how you put up with this crap.” He gestured towards his copied algebra homework dismissively. “I mean, it’s just busywork. I have other things I want to do.”

“You have to find a balance, Takuya. I know it’s a pain, but…”

Takuya looked at him seriously, and then sighed.

“You’re right. You know, you have this weird way of saying extremely smart stuff once in a while. Don’t let it go to your head though.”

Makoto raised his eyebrows. “It’s just common sense. Don’t give me too much credit.”

Takuya shrugged. “By the way, did you see the news this morning?”

“No, why?”

“A government minister was killed outside the Diet by a mystery shooter. It’s like something out of a movie.”

Makoto shivered. “That’s awful.”

Takuya nodded. “The worst part is they don’t seem to have any leads on who killed the guy. The news said this shooting seemed to be part of a pattern of killings. It started a year or so ago, but the mystery killer only started targeting Diet members a few months ago. This is the first member of the Cabinet to be assassinated.”

“I hope his family is okay. The government needs to stop these murders, before more people get killed.”

Takuya scratched his head and nodded. “Yeah, but they don’t have _any_ leads after a year of killings? Isn’t that a bit suspicious?”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “Suspicious how? You think they’re hiding something?”

Takuya stroked his chin. “I don’t know… but something about this doesn’t feel right. Who would have the ability to get someone that important killed? What could their motivation be? It’s just bizarre.”

“You sound like a detective, Takuya.”

Takuya pretended to tip his hat. “Thanks, Watson. I’m here all week.”

–

“Let’s see here…”

Makoto clicked through some forums, searching for information on his more famous classmates. Most people on the Internet referred to his class as “Class 78” and rumors were already spreading like wildfire. It was difficult to discern the truth from the lies. All Makoto knew for sure was that he and Sayaka were part of Class 78.

As for the others, Makoto had more mixed information.

He could confirm a few other students – Byakuya Togami, for instance, whose family had announced his admittance to Hope’s Peak through a press conference. The spokeswoman had not specified Byakuya’s Ultimate talent, and Makoto couldn’t even hazard a guess. Coming from the ultra-wealthy Togami family, Byakuya could possess any number of talents. The real question was why the Togami family had not specified his Ultimate talent.

Then there was Celestia Ludenberg, a famous (or, Makoto supposed, infamous) gambler. Makoto had watched a few videos of poker tournaments she had participated in. Makoto was obviously no expert, but Celestia’s face was unreadable. Her body language gave not the slightest clue about what she might do next. The commentators seemed just as clueless as him. Her choices baffled Makoto at times. Yet, at the end of the tournament, she walked away with the grand prize.

Makoto had always believed that the house always wins. With Celestia, the saying was flipped on its head. Indeed, some people online maintained that she was banned from casinos the world over. Still, Celestia did not win all her matches. Even in defeat though, she seemed unbothered – as if the outcome hardly mattered to her.

“Strange…” Makoto said aloud.

“You sure are.” A voice came from outside his door.

Makoto turned to see his mother standing in the doorway. “Jeez, can’t you clear your throat or something?”

She grinned. “What for? Can’t I visit my son?”

Her voice was a little too cheerful. Cheeky. Makoto sighed.

“I guess.”

She walked over and stared at his computer screen.

“Hey–”

His mom frowned at him. “It’s not very polite to cyberstalk your future classmates, Makoto.”

“I–I’m not cyberstalking! I’m just trying to figure out who’s going to be in my class, that’s all. How can I make friends if I don’t know anything about them?”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Probably just like every other high school student.”

“Nothing about Hope’s Peak is like other high schools.”

She pretended to look perplexed. “Well, the students go to classes, take notes, do homework, eat meals together, and socialize. You’re right, this doesn’t sound like any high school I’ve ever heard of.”

Makoto looked sheepish. She laughed.

“You’re being silly, Makoto. Hope’s Peak might be a big deal, but it’s not run by Martians. It’s just high school.”

“It’s the most prestigious high school in Japan, maybe the world.” Makoto said wearily. “I’m just some guy from Black Root. Maybe this information will give me a small head start. I mean, I’d be nervous going to a regular high school and knowing so few people. But these guys are Ultimates– they’ve refined a specific talent so much that Hope’s Peak recognizes them as the best in the world.”

His mother pursed her lips. “But they’re still the same age as you, Makoto. They’re still young, growing, and very much uncertain about what Hope’s Peak holds for them. More than likely, many of them are as worried or more than you about attending such a famous school.”

Makoto scratched his head and looked down. “I guess you’re probably right. But it’s hard to imagine they would feel the same way as someone like me.”

“Talent or no talent,” his mother said, “they’re just like you. People who want to make friends and who want to enjoy their time in high school. Now, I’m going to figure out what we’re doing for dinner.”

She walked to the door, but turned to look at Makoto once she reached the door.

“Makoto.”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “You’re not just some guy from Black Root. You’re Makoto Naegi. Carry that fact with you proudly when you walk through the doors of Hope’s Peak.”

Makoto smiled. “Thanks, Mom. Let me know if you need any help with dinner.”

She nodded and walked down the hallway, footsteps audible until she descended the stairs. Makoto turned back to the screen, then surveyed his room. Posters depicting popular bands and anime populated the walls. A small bookshelf sat near the door, its shelves lined half with manga and half with books. The window looked out on the house next door, owned by an elderly couple he didn’t know too well.

He’d always liked his room, but never thought it was unique or interesting. It was ordinary. But perhaps the rooms of his future classmates weren’t so different. Perhaps despite their Ultimate talents, they too listened to ordinary music, watched ordinary anime, and read ordinary books.

–

Mukuro flopped down on her cot. She had arrived a few hours after the shooting. On her way from the Diet, she had concealed her equipment, changed into regular clothes, broken the security cordon, and made her way back to the house on foot so that she could be certain nobody followed her.

She clasped her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling of her room. The room was spartan even by the standards of a prison cell. Gray wallpaper lined the undecorated walls. The room itself was empty except for her lone cot. In her closet were almost no everyday clothes, only tactical apparel and a small cache of weapons for emergencies. Her apartment on the other side of town held the bulk of her equipment, but for the purpose of the mission it made sense to return to Junko’s house. Plus, Junko liked to keep an eye on her. It was only with great reluctance that she had allowed Mukuro to rent an apartment, and only after she had installed surveillance equipment to keep an eye on Mukuro at all times.

Not that she needed to. Mukuro would never betray her sister.

She sighed. Even Junko would be pleased with how smoothly the operation had gone. Mukuro still felt nothing but apathy about the shooting. She didn’t even feel proud of her performance. Just… empty.

Soon, she thought, the plan will go into action. The whole world will know despair, and Junko would finally be happy with her.

Tomorrow, Mukuro would begin preparation to attend Hope’s Peak Academy as part of Class 78. The sisters received their invitations on the same day. As Junko had anticipated, the Academy invited her as the “Ultimate Fashionista”. Mukuro, on the other hand, had been invited as the “Ultimate Soldier”. Though accurate, both titles were mere pretenses to gain admittance into Hope’s Peak, from which Junko would initiate her plans.

Mukuro had reviewed the files for every student in Class 78, and would review the files of other classes in the days to come. Junko was unconcerned with most of her classmates. None had any real potential to thwart her plans, even the Ultimate Detective, Kyoko Kirigiri. Mukuro believed she would be the greatest threat, connected as she was to the headmaster of Hope’s Peak himself. But Junko had only expressed any annoyance at the presence of another student – Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Lucky Student. Mukuro recalled the conversation.

–

“Ugh, I _hate_ having to account for some nobody with such a pathetic talent.”

The Despair Sisters sat at the kitchen table in Junko’s house, rifling through Class 78’s files. Junko was taking meticulous notes, but Mukuro merely assessed the threat each student might pose to the plan.

Mukuro looked up from the file she was reviewing. “What’s wrong?”

Junko glared at her over the file she was holding. “Uh, did I say something was wrong? I just hate doing extra work to account for losers whose only talent is good luck. That’s not even a fucking talent!”

Mukuro sifted through her files. “Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Lucky Student…” she read aloud.

Junko rolled her eyes. “Yes, _thank_ you, I can read.” she spat.

Mukuro met her sister’s eyes. “What makes him so difficult to deal with?”

Junko put glasses on and tied her hair back in a single ponytail. Her personality shifted into the bespectacled academic. “Well, you’re probably too stupid to understand this, but a talent like luck falls outside my ability to analyze. It defies normal probabilities and makes people difficult to control or predict. I can account for him in the plan, but that takes valuable time and resources.”

Mukuro narrowed her eyes. “Should I eliminate him?”

She shifted personalities again, adopting a cutesy voice and sparkling eyes. “Poor wittle Mukuro. Her first any only thought is to use force to solve the problem. You’ll never land a boyfriend like that.” Junko let out a shrill, high laugh.

Then she was her normal self again. “But really, what’s the fun in having a one-hundred percent chance of success? The despair of others is all the sweeter for the hope that comes before. If the students don’t have any hope to begin with, well, that’s just no fun, is it?” She giggled.

Mukuro looked back down at Makoto Naegi’s file. “I see.”

–

In truth, she hadn’t seen, but she knew better than to argue. Junko was unforgiving at the best of times. Still, if Junko thought Makoto Naegi could be a threat, then it was Mukuro’s job to keep a close watch on him, along with Kirigiri.

She sat up and stared out the window. Expensive-looking homes lined the other side of the street, their impressive facades lost in the dark of night. Only the faint glow of the street lights kept the dark from obscuring them completely.

Mukuro drew her knees in and clasped her arms around them. It felt a little unreal to be back in an actual house after years of roughing it with Fenrir. There was electricity that didn’t cut out, and running water that didn’t need to be run through a filter. Mukuro felt… comfortable.

She knew all of this would come tumbling down in the course of Junko’s plan. Anarchy, disorder, chaos, violence... Mukuro knew better than anyone that those things bred despair. From the sands of the Middle East to the dense jungles of Central Africa, people despaired as endless conflicts burned across the world.

Was there nothing to despair in a peaceful society, though? Nothing to mourn as people worked themselves to death doing jobs they could hardly tolerate? Nothing destructive about a system that excludes some and privileges others, often arbitrarily? Mukuro was the Ultimate Soldier, yet she was headed to one of the finest institutions of learning in the entire world. What made her more deserving than anyone else?

Her talent. Ah, yes, Hope’s Peak rewarded her for taking the lives of other people, as long as she was the best at it.

Even if Junko had not planned to bring the world despair, Mukuro realized, she would have destroyed Hope’s Peak herself.

On the battlefield, such idle thoughts would only bring death, but when the fighting stopped Mukuro often had hours to think and reflect on the day’s events. Part of a soldier’s job was to think only in ways conducive to the mission, yet here she was, contemplating what-ifs. She supposed that living in Japan was already making her soft.

However, losing her edge was not an option. Mukuro would play a grand role in the final act of Hope’s Peak. She would bring her sister immense despair, and that was what mattered. Not the small comforts of home.

Mukuro laid back down and began to drift off.

Despite all that, she thought, it wasn’t a bad feeling to lay down on a real bed once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, reader.
> 
> The tag list for both characters and relationships is incomplete at present. Those I'm certain will come to fruition at some point in the story are listed currently. I don't know what other relationships will emerge yet. Please bear with me as I continue to write.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


	2. Hope's Peak Academy

Makoto and his family arrived at Hope’s Peak a little after lunchtime.

In the morning, he had packed his clothes and the few belongings important enough to take with him. He had put on his brand-new uniform: a light brown blazer, trousers, a white dress shirt, and a red tie. Technically, he wasn’t required to wear a uniform, but his mother had insisted. His family had gone out for a celebratory lunch at Makoto’s favorite yakitori restaurant before their arrival.

His father parked the car in a circular driveway by the front entrance of the school. Opening the car door, Makoto peered up at the imposing towers that made up the Academy. The warm spring air washed over him, and he breathed it in greedily. After months of winter, the turn of weather felt wonderful. He spread his arms out and stretched.

“What are you doing?” Komaru asked, getting out behind him.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Makoto replied.

Komaru’s expression changed to one of slight concern. Their mother emerged from the other side of the car.

“Don’t worry Komaru, he’s probably a little overwhelmed at the moment. This is a big day for him, after all.”

Their father opened the back of the car and withdrew two small suitcases and a backpack. “It’s a big day for all of us, frankly. I can’t believe we’re about to drop him off at Hope’s Peak Academy.” He gave Makoto a wistful look. “I knew you’d live away one day, but… I guess I figured it wouldn’t be so soon.”

“It’s okay, Dad, I’m not far from home. I’ll call every week and come home for the holidays.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Makoto. I want you to enjoy your time here, and if that means spending weekends and holidays with friends, we’ll understand. Now, give your old man a hand with this suitcase.”

Makoto grabbed both the larger suitcase and backpack from his father.

“It’s not easy getting old, you know!” His mother said cheekily. “You’ll understand later on.”

Komaru pointed towards the Academy doors. “Someone’s coming.”

A man donning a white dress shirt, navy blazer, navy trousers, and tweed hat sauntered over to the family. He stopped in front of them and tipped his hat.

“Good afternoon. Are you all the Naegi family?”

His father nodded. “Yes. Are you with the Academy?”

The man in the tweed hat grinned. “Yes indeed, I’m here to escort the students to their quarters and assist them with their luggage. Thanks for being on time, by the way, you really saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Of course.” Makoto’s father said, eyebrow raised slightly.

“Oh, er, my apologies. I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Hiroshi. Hiroshi Fukasaku. I’m the Ultimate Concierge. Usually I’m working at the nicer hotels in Japan, but I do some part-time work for the Academy.”

He paused, scratching his chin. “Unfortunately, Makoto–who I assume is this strapping lad here– will be in orientation after we settle him into the student dormitory. So, what I suppose I’m saying is, it’s time for goodbyes.” He tipped his hat again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’ll wait by the entrance. Take… well, not as _much_ time as you want, but as much as you need, eh?”

Hiroshi gently took the suitcase from Makoto’s father and strolled back over towards the entrance, whistling softly as he went.

“This place is just full of characters, isn’t it?” His father remarked.

“Come now,” Makoto’s mother chided, “he was quite considerate, wasn’t he?”

His father grunted. “I suppose.”

Makoto looked at the ground. His good mood belied a sinking feeling that always accompanied saying goodbye to loved ones.

Silence hung in the air as the four Naegis stood there for a moment.

“Chin up, Makoto.” His mother said. Makoto met her eyes, and saw to his surprise that she was on the verge of tears.

“You’ll do great here Makoto! Make sure to call now and then though, okay?” Komaru said cheerily.

Makoto’s father put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye.

“We’re proud of you, Makoto. Never forget that. I know it’s all a little much right now, but just hang in there. You made it here, and you can be happy here, even with all of these lunatics.”

“Honey.” Makoto’s mother said sternly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Er, well, just take it easy. You can only do what you can do.”

With that, he gave Makoto a hug.

“Thanks, Dad.” Makoto said as his father let go.

Makoto’s mother walked up to him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be so sad. It’s not like you’re moving far away. It’s just a symptom of being a mom, I guess.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll call home and visit often.”

She shook her head. “I know you will, but your father’s right– you have to spend time here as well, making friends and having fun. Don’t let your grades slip, though.” She pumped her fists. “Just because you’re at Hope’s Peak doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do your absolute best!”

Makoto and Komaru laughed. His father looked a little sheepish.

His mother looked at him again.

“This is a dream come true, Makoto. Make the most of it, and remember that you’re just as special a person as all the other Ultimates. Embrace every chance to make memories that comes your way.”

She hugged him and kissed his forehead.

Komaru gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see ya around, Makoto. Make sure to tell us about all the cool stuff you do.”

With that, the three Naegis got into their car and drove off the grounds of Hope’s Peak Academy. Waving and watching their car drive off, Makoto felt a slight urge to cry. He really was on his own here, with a bunch of Ultimates. Despite what his mother had said, Makoto’s nerves were getting the better of him.

The breeze reminded him of the beautiful day. The sun shined, and the birds chirped in their sing-song way. His former optimism began to trickle back. Yeah, this was a golden opportunity to make new friends and memories at one of the best schools in the country. He wondered what kind of life awaited him after this point, but he no longer felt tearful. He felt hope.

“You ready, Makoto?”

Makoto jumped a little, turning to face Hiroshi, who scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you. The first goodbye is always the hardest, you know. After that, it gets much easier.”

Makoto nodded, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Well then, let’s head to your dorm room, shall we? I’ll lead the way.”

Makoto followed the Ultimate Concierge back into Hope’s Peak. They entered a well-lit, modest entrance hall lined with chestnut-colored pillars. The pillars supported pristine white arches, which were reflected in the near-spotless floor.

As Makoto took the scenery in, a group of four students walked by in a cluster. They seemed hurried, and though they must have been Hope’s Peak students, their uniforms differed from Makoto’s.

He started to follow them down a hallway, but Hiroshi put a hand on his shoulder. “We gotta take your luggage to your dorm first, right?” he said nonchalantly. “Besides, your orientation is a little different from theirs.”

The confusion must have shown on Makoto’s face, because Hiroshi began to explain as they walked.

“Those students are in the Reserve Course of Hope’s Peak. They don’t have an Ultimate Talent, but they’re excellent students and pay quite a hefty fee to attend the Academy. Reserve Course students are in separate classes from the Ultimate students, so it only makes sense that the orientations would be separate as well.”

“Will I be rooming with Reserve Course students?” Makoto asked.

Hiroshi laughed. “I’m afraid not– you actually have a room to yourself. The Ultimates all room together in the same building. Boys on one floor, girls on the other.”

He looked slyly at Makoto. “So don’t get any funny ideas. You don’t strike me as that type of guy, though.”

Makoto knit his brow. “No, yeah, I don’t– that’s not–”

Before he could finish his thought, another occurred to him.

“Um, Mr. Fukasaku?”

“Call me Hiroshi, please. I’m not that old.”

“Mr. Hiroshi, why are the Ultimates and Reserve Course students separated?”

Hiroshi scratched his chin and pondered the question. “I’m not too sure myself, Makoto.” He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Frankly, it strikes me as a little elitist, but what do I know? Maybe there’s a good reason for it.”

The pair reached another door outside, and Hiroshi held it open for Makoto.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As they walked towards a large building that Makoto assumed was the dormitory, Hiroshi began to speak again.

“Most of my friends were in the Reserve Course, actually. I had a few Ultimate friends, but some of them were a little much, you know?”

Makoto raised his eyebrows. Hiroshi noticed immediately.

“Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to scare you or anything. I’m quite strange myself, so I don’t get along with everyone. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble making friends. You seem like a pretty well-rounded kid.”

“Uh, thanks, Mr. Hiroshi.”

“ _Please_ drop the mister.”

The two reached the double doors of the dormitory’s front entrance. They were constructed of a clear safety glass, through which Makoto could see a small lobby and check-in desk by the back wall.

Hiroshi again held the door. “After you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Makoto walked into the lobby, but stopped in the center of the room. He wasn’t sure if he needed to check in or where his room was. The receptionist looked up at him from her desk. She wore glasses and a mild expression.

“Which room?” she asked. Makoto stared at her blankly.

“Um, I don’t–”

“205. Thanks, Misaki.” Hiroshi interjected from behind Makoto.

“That makes you… Makoto Naegi, right?” She looked down, then peered at him from her desk. “Yeah, you match the photo. Come take your student handbook.”

Makoto approached the reception desk. Misaki handed him a tablet-like device and a charger.

“That’s your E-Handbook. It contains your student ID, the school’s code of conduct, your class schedule, and other important information. You can also connect to the Internet. Make sure you carry it with you every day, it’s the key to opening doors around the school and such.”

“Oh, thank you.” Makoto said, staring at the E-Handbook. He’d never heard of a virtual student ID.

“You’re welcome.” The receptionist said with a smile. “Enjoy orientation, okay?”

Makoto bowed slightly. He and Hiroshi walked to the elevator and took it up to the second floor.

“201-208 is the first-year student wing. 209-216 is for second-years. The floor below is for the girls.” Hiroshi explained, stepping out of the elevator.

Makoto followed and looked down both hallways. There were only a few doors. “How many people are in my class?”

“Sixteen.”

“That few?” Makoto said, shocked.

Hiroshi rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not too surprising, actually. Think about the kind of kids that Hope’s Peak scouts out. You’re only going to find so many, even in a country as populous as Japan. Hope’s Peak recruits foreigners as well, but it’s often difficult.”

Makoto considered this. “I guess that makes sense.”

They moved down the hallway towards 205. The hallway was rather austere, with unadorned doors, a simple hardwood floor, and a windowed ceiling.

“Have people already moved in?”

“Yes. Hope’s Peak staggers arrivals alphabetically. Some students demand greater accommodation than others. One of the students who arrived before you– Chihiro– had a ton of computers, toolboxes, all kinds of stuff. It took a dozen staff members to get everything set up. I don’t mind, but I do appreciate you making my life easy.”

Hiroshi lifted the suitcase up. “Light as a feather.” He chuckled. “Anyway, here’s your room. I can help you unpack if you like, but if you’d prefer to do it yourself, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll take care of it myself. Thanks for everything, Hiroshi.”

He beamed. “No problem, Makoto. Your door opens to your E-Handbook. Hold it up to the reader here.” He gestured to a black square next to the door.

“Well, enjoy your orientation. _Au revoir_ , Makoto.” He turned and strolled off down the hallway, hand raised in goodbye.

Makoto waved and turned to the door. He waved the E-Handbook over the reader and heard a faint click. He pushed open the door gently–

–to one of the most luxurious rooms he had ever seen.

The back of the room had a glass wall, with blinds controlled by a panel near the bed. The bed itself faced the leftward wall and a mahogany bureau. A huge TV was suspended above the bureau. Near the door Makoto had entered through was a kitchenette to the left and a door to the bathroom on the right. There was a desk next to the bed, a closet near the bathroom, and a small table with two chairs near the window.

Makoto, an awed expression on his face, walked across the room to look out the window. He could see a beautiful garden in the back, as well as the boundary between Hope’s Peak and the city beyond. He sat back on the bed attempting to process what he was seeing. He thought that Hope’s Peak’s dorms might be a little nicer than average, but this was… something else.

He took pictures of the dorm with his phone and sent them to Komaru and Takuya, then set about unpacking his things. Makoto’s paltry belongings couldn’t even begin to fill the room, and he’d left his posters at home. The room felt foreign to him, but he hoped he would adjust to his new surroundings with time.

Makoto finished unpacking his clothes and put his now-empty suitcases into the closet. He put the E-Handbook into his new backpack and prepared to leave.

Just as he was about to open the door, he stopped. Where was he supposed to go, exactly? He’s never asked Hiroshi where the orientation was, and if all the students were arriving separately, he wouldn’t be able to follow anyone.

“I’ll ask the receptionist.” Makoto mumbled to himself.

He closed the door to his room and took the stairwell down to the lobby. He approached the reception desk.

Misaki lowered the book she was reading. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure where to go for orientation.”

She tsked. “Ultimate Concierge, eh? How irresponsible. I’m sorry about that, Makoto. I don’t know myself, but I believe your handbook has a map that will show you the way.”

“Oh, perfect.” Makoto said. “Thanks.”

“Any time. Oh, there’s one of your classmates. You could walk together if you’re still unsure.”

Makoto turned to see a slight girl emerge from a hallway. She had short black hair, light purple eyes, and freckles across the bridge of her nose. What really caught Makoto’s attention, though, was her demeanor. He wasn’t a particularly shy person, but something stopped him from approaching her.

She had a frosty expression on her face as she looked with some annoyance at the receptionist. “I’m fine on my own.”

Misaki gave her a stern look. “Your classmate here isn’t sure where to go. I’m sure you know the way, Mukuro, so please help him out.”

For a moment the two stared at each other. Makoto felt acutely uncomfortable.

“Fine.” The girl called Mukuro said. “Follow me.”

She turned and walked out of the building. Makoto hurried after her.

“Sorry about that.” Makoto said sheepishly.

Mukuro didn’t respond. Her pace was brisk, and soon they entered the Academy proper. They walked down a hallway, up a stairwell, and down another hallway.

“So… where are we headed?” Makoto asked.

“Orientation.”

“Ah, yeah, right.” Makoto mumbled. Not quite the answer he was looking for. He looked at Mukuro, who seemed determined not to say a single unnecessary word. She was apparently one of his classmates, so she must have some sort of talent. Makoto couldn’t even hazard a guess, though. Her build was very slight, so she probably wasn’t an athlete. She wasn’t much for conversation, so Ultimate Socialite was out.

Makoto chuckled.

Mukuro abruptly stopped and turned to face him.

“What’s so funny?”

Makoto, surprised, stood with mouth agape. “Uh, I-I just thought-I just thought you probably weren’t the Ultimate Socialite?”

He smiled weakly. For a long moment, Mukuro stared at him, eyes unreadable. Makoto broke eye contact and looked at the ground. Something about her stare unsettled him. It was like looking into a pit, the depths of which he could not fathom.

He heard her footsteps. Raising his head, he saw her walking at the same pace as before. He began to follow again, and they made their way down a couple hallways before arriving at a classroom marked “1-1”. She entered without hesitation.

Makoto paused outside the door. He would finally meet his high school classmates. Clenching his fists, he muttered to himself.

“I can only do what I can do. Best foot forward. Best foot forward. Best–”

“Makoto?”

–

Mukuro entered the classroom and brushed off the scattered greetings she received. The desks were arranged four by four, and Mukuro took the third desk in the last row. Taking her seat, she leaned her head on her hand and looked out the window.

Makoto Naegi. Junko maintained that his talent posed the greatest threat of any in Class 78. He was unremarkable, but that could be dangerous in an enemy. His manner was unassuming and timid, yet…

…yet he had looked Mukuro right in the eye and _smiled_.

Mukuro knew from long years of experience that people, especially civilians, avoided eye contact with her. Even some Fenrir soldiers found her unsettling. Makoto Naegi, on the other hand, returned her gaze. Held it.

Eventually he’d broken eye contact, of course. Mukuro wasn’t even sure why it bothered her so much. It had only been momentary. But why did he look…

…sympathetic?

–

A melodious voice rang out from behind Makoto. He turned to see a beautiful girl with blue hair strolling towards him. She stopped in front of him, smiling.

“It is you! I wasn’t sure at first, but you’re definitely Makoto Naegi from Black Root! Do you remember me?”

Makoto stood, mouth ajar. Standing before him was Sayaka Maizono. “Uh, yeah, I-”

“I can’t believe you’re here too!” She suddenly held her hand over her mouth, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. It’s not that you couldn’t get into Hope’s Peak, I just meant-”

Makoto laughed and waved his hand. “No, really, it’s fine. My talent’s kind of lame anyway.”

Sayaka looked cross. “You shouldn’t belittle your own talent, Makoto! What is it?”

“I-I guess you’re right. I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student.”

Sayaka laughed. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? That’s an amazing talent. As for me, I’m the Ultimate Idol!” She looked sheepish. “Sorry. It sounds like I’m bragging, but that’s the title they gave me.”

Makoto shook his head. “You’re one of the most famous idols in the country, Sayaka. It’s amazing you even remembered who I am.”

Sayaka tilted her head, then raised her index finger to her temple.

“I didn’t remember. I read your mind.”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

Sayaka giggled and shook her head. “I’m just kidding. I have good intuition about people, is all. But I did know your name! Do you remember rescuing a crane that got stuck in the school pond at Black Root?”

Makoto rubbed his chin. “Now that you mention it, yeah, I do. Still, it’s surprising that you remember something from that long ago.”

“It’s because I thought you were super cool, Makoto. Nobody moved to help that poor crane except you.”

Makoto felt his cheeks heat up. He looked at the ground.

“Um, thanks, Sayaka, but it really wasn’t a big deal.”

“You saved that crane’s life, Makoto! You should be proud of yourself.”

He scratched the back of his head, meeting her gaze once again. “Maybe you’re right.”

She smiled. “Of course! I’m a mind reader, after all. Now, let’s go introduce ourselves to our new classmates.”

“O-okay. Ladies first?”

Sayaka looked cross again. “Oh no, Makoto, you’re not hiding behind me the first time we meet everyone. You have to be confident in yourself, right?”

“Jeez, are you really a mind reader or not?” Makoto said, embarrassed.

She giggled. “No, I already told you, I just have great intuition. After you, then.”

She got behind Makoto and steered him to the classroom door. Makoto, after a moment’s hesitation, opened it and entered to the greetings of his new classmates.


	3. Class 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a flashback, symptomatic of post-traumatic stress disorder, and depicts graphic violence. I advise reader discretion.

The classroom appeared half full when Makoto and Sayaka entered.

“Hellooo!” A girl in a bright red jacket exclaimed as Makoto and Sayaka entered the classroom. Aside from the jacket, she wore shorts and a red leg band. She had chestnut brown hair worn up in a high, curling ponytail.

“Uh, hi.” Makoto said.

“Hello everyone!” Sayaka said cheerily.

The girl in the red jacket flew to Sayaka’s side. “Wait, are you Sayaka Maizono! I can’t believe such a famous idol is in my class!”

A guy with spiky red hair jerked his head off his desk, eyes bleary from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at Sayaka. “Whoa, she’s really here!”

Another girl, wearing a dark green blouse and brown skirt, rose from her desk at the front and walked over to Makoto. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer.” She bowed.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Lucky Student.” Only a trace of hesitation betrayed Makoto’s nerves.

Chihiro’s eyes widened. “Ultimate Lucky Student?”

Makoto scratched his head. “Uh, it’s no big deal. I just won a lottery to enter Hope’s Peak, that’s all.”

Sayaka moved to face Chihiro, smiling. “I’m Sayaka Maizono, the Ultimate Idol. Pleased to meet you, Chihiro.”

Chihiro returned her smile. “Nice to meet you! I never thought I’d meet an idol at Hope’s Peak.”

Makoto and Sayaka both stood in shock for a moment.

“So… cute…” they said in unison.

Chihiro blushed, and the girl in the red jacket laughed.

“Chihiro’s the best, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sayaka began, “his smile really lights up the room!”

Wait, what did Sayaka say?

Makoto turned to face her, but the girl in the red jacket stood in front of him.

“U-Uh,” Makoto stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

She grinned. “It’s fine. My name’s Aoi Asahina, and I’m the Ultimate Swimmer! Nice to meet you, Makoto!” She grabbed his hand and shook it. Makoto looked away. She was quite pretty.

Aoi turned to Sayaka. “Hey, you know Chihiro’s a girl, right?”

Sayaka’s eyes widened. She slowly turned to face Chihiro, mortified. She began to bow rapidly, apologizing all the while.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to confuse your gender!”

Chihiro looked down. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Sayaka looked upset with herself. Aoi and the red-haired kid were laughing.

“You would put on a great one-man show.” the red-haired kid said. “You ever think about acting, idol girl?”

Sayaka put her finger on her lower lip. “Well, I haven’t ruled it out, but…”

Aoi looked shocked. “For real? You would definitely break out and become a big star! Well, you’re already a big star, but you could make it even bigger, ya know?”

Sayaka laughed. “You could be right, Aoi. Have _you_ ever considered a career in acting?”

Aoi put her hand to the back of her head and closed her eyes sheepishly. “Nah, I’m no good on stage. Plus, I love swimming too much!”

Makoto walked over to the red-haired guy’s desk. “Um, can I ask your name?”

He looked surprised. “Oh, sorry, did I not introduce myself? Name’s Leon Kuwata, and technically I’m here as the Ultimate Baseball Player, but I really want to be a great rock star! You think I can do it, right guy?”

Makoto stepped back, shocked by the sudden outburst. “Um, yeah? Maybe?”

Leon fell back in his chair. “Damn it, that didn’t sound very convincing…”

Two guys walked up from the back of the room. One had short, spiky black hair, piercing red eyes. He wore a white button-down shirt, white pants, and knee-high black boots. His demeanor reminded Makoto of a drill sergeant in movies. The other had huge, wild brown hair protruding in every direction. He wore a black jacket over a white dress shirt and yellow sweater, with baggy black pants. Strangely, he also had what looked like a crystal ball in his hand.

The kid in white stood up straight, arms stiff at his sides. “Greetings, fellow students! My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and I am the Ultimate Moral Compass! Please assist me in detaining this fraudster!”

“F-Fraudster! Who are you calling a fraud!?” The guy with huge hair sputtered. “I’m the Ultimate Clairvoyant!” He turned to the group in the front of the class.

“Sorry about this guy. Name’s Yasuhiro Hagakure.” He gave a thumbs-up. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Ultimate Fortune Teller?” Sayaka said. “Do all your fortunes come true?”

He gave a wide smile. “About thirty percent of my readings come true! How cool is that?”

“Er…” Sayaka said, “That’s not very reliable, is it?”

“What?!” Yasuhiro exclaimed. “For a fortune teller, thirty percent is super high! Come on, I’ll tell your fortune right now for the low, low price of a million yen!”

Makoto averted his eyes. Sayaka and the others looked skeptical.

“That’s definitely a rip-off.” Leon stated matter-of-factly.

“Indeed!” Kiyotaka said. “That’s why I’m making a citizen’s arrest. Not only is this man’s business fraudulent, he’s also in arrears to a number of creditors!”

“Um,” Chihiro began, “thirty percent is pretty good for a fortune teller, don’t you think?”

Aoi rubbed her chin. “I guess when you put it that way, it is a little impressive.”

“See!” Hagakure shouted. “I’m definitely the world’s greatest clairvoyant! How about I give you a discounted reading, Kiyotaka? Only nine hundred thousand yen. A real bargain!”

Kiyotaka raised his fists. “I’ll take no such deal! You’re on thin ice, Hagakure!”

Sayaka, Aoi, and Chihiro began to talk amongst themselves. Kiyotaka and Hagakure continued to bicker. Leon lowered his head, as if to continue sleeping. Makoto found himself somewhat isolated. He took a look around the classroom. Facing the desks was a wooden speaking podium, a large desk, and a blackboard. A TV was set up near the door, under which was an empty notice board. To his surprise, the classrooms of Hope’s Peak appeared pretty ordinary.

Looking around, he noticed a number of people who had not introduced themselves when he and Sayaka had entered. The girl he had walked with, Mukuro, sat in the third desk of the last row staring out the window. Another girl sat next to her in the corner, writing into a notebook. She had long, unkempt brown hair tied in two braids and glasses. She appeared to be wearing a uniform, not that of Hope’s Peak, but of any typical Japanese high school.

Another girl sat alone at the front of the class, arms crossed and eyes closed. Her long hair was an unusual light purple color, with a single braid on the left side fastened by a black ribbon. Makoto wondered if it was dyed. She also sported a purplish blazer, white dress shirt, and rectangular tie. It was a strange getup, but Makoto supposed that most Ultimates had very distinct senses of fashion.

Makoto stood awkwardly near the podium. Her presence was a little intimidating. Makoto wanted to introduce himself, but he didn’t want to disturb her. He glanced over at Sayaka, happily conversing with the other girls. She made walking into a new class look easy.

He steeled himself. What’s the worst that could happen, really? He was just introducing himself. The lavender-haired girl probably wouldn’t mind. Determined, Makoto stepped towards her desk-

The girl’s eyes shot open and she looked straight at Makoto. He stopped dead, paralyzed with sudden anxiety.

“What do you want?” She demanded.

“Uh, I mean, I- I just thought, er…”

The girl raised her eyebrows. Makoto scrambled to pull his thoughts together.

“I-I wanted to introduce myself. I’m-”

“Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student. I heard you earlier.”

Makoto grimaced. He had not expected this to go so poorly, so quickly. The girl looked at him for a moment, sighed, and ran her hand through her hair.

“My name is Kyoko Kirigiri. I’m the Ultimate Detective… according to Hope’s Peak.”

She closed her eyes again. Makoto supposed that was the end of the conversation. Confidence thus shattered, he decided to sit down and wait for orientation to begin. He surveyed the classroom. Sayaka had taken the second desk in the third row, behind Aoi’s. Makoto walked over and took the desk next to her. Mukuro sat behind him, while Kiyotaka sat in front.

Makoto dropped his backpack next to the desk and sat down. He took out his phone and began to text Takuya.

“ _the classrooms here look pretty normal. my classmates are friendly, though some seem a little out there. how are things on your end?_ ”

Makoto pocketed his phone and looked around. Sayaka, Aoi, and Chihiro were still chatting animatedly. Kiyotaka sat ramrod stiff at his desk, hands folded, while Leon slept, head resting on crossed arms. Hagakure was looking into a crystal ball and waving his hands around it. He could hear the sound of pen against paper, which was probably the brown-haired girl who was writing earlier. Eventually, he would introduce himself to her, but his nerves were still frayed from talking to Kyoko earlier.

Hiroshi had said that Hope’s Peak staggered student arrivals, so Makoto figured he should find something to do while he waited. He looked out the window. There was a gentle breeze coming in through the open window, and the sunlight felt warm and comfortable. He took his notebook out and began to doodle.

–

_Two years earlier. Katanga, Democratic Republic of the Congo._

Mukuro laid prone, jungle vegetation concealing her position. Up ahead, a windowless wooden schoolhouse stood in the center of a small clearing, illuminated by the full moon. A trail led into the forest on the other side, probably leading to the village served by the schoolhouse. A rusted slide lay toppled over, while a dirty plastic see-saw sat forlornly nearby. According to her information, rebel guerrillas were hiding here with the tacit support of the local townspeople. Her squad had orders to clear out several pockets of rebels in the area, but so far only one of the buildings they had raided contained any rebels. This schoolhouse was the last objective.

Had the rebels pulled back?

_This isn’t happening. I’m at Hope’s Peak, sitting at a desk._

Mukuro signaled to advance with her hand. She got to her feet and crept towards the schoolhouse, gun pointed at the entrance. Her five squadmates emerged from the jungle nearby, all mimicking her.

Faint voices reached Mukuro’s ears and she held up her hand, signaling her men to halt. The voices were masculine, but beyond that she couldn’t tell what they were saying. One of the men, Vas, approached her, crouching all the while.

“Flashbangs?” he whispered.

Mukuro considered her options. Regular grenades would be too loud and cause too much collateral damage. Smoke would drive the rebels out into the open, but lose her squad the element of surprise. Flashbangs would work, though it was probably dark inside the schoolhouse.

She craned her head to look back at her squad. “Night vision on. When the flashbang goes off, we storm in and take them out. Clear?”

_This is a flashback. I’m looking out the window._

They muttered affirmations. Mukuro continued creeping towards the entrance until she was right next to the door. The voices inside were low, a little panicked. Perhaps they had received word about the other raids.

Mukuro pulled a stun grenade off her belt and armed it. She tossed it into the schoolhouse. Three… two… one…

A bang. Yelling. She turned into the entrance and started firing. Her squad followed suit. Voices screamed, only to be cut short. Soon, the only noise was the firing of her squad’s silenced weapons.

Mukuro stopped firing and lowered her weapon. Something was off.

She took her flashlight out and shined it across the room. Blood was splattered everywhere. Men, women, and children lay strewn across the floor, dead.

Women and children?

“Oh… oh shit.” Vas muttered. “Fuck. We’re fucked.”

Flashlight beams activated one by one and illuminated the room. A bloodstained blackboard occupied the back wall. The only weapons in the room were those carried by Mukuro and her squad.

“Everyone out.” She ordered. Slowly, her men backed out of the room, some cursing.

She checked the pulses of a few bodies. Some had faint pulses, most had none. All wore civilian clothes, with a few backpacks strewn around.

One thing was clear: these people certainly weren’t rebels.

Some of the injuries on the bodies could not have been caused by her squad’s weapons. Perhaps they had been caught up in fighting elsewhere. Not that it mattered now.

The faces of the dead were terrified, anguished, pleading… the pain each and every one of them had felt was unmistakable. Parents held onto children. Husbands onto wives. Blood pooled around her boots. The metallic smell filled her nostrils. Mukuro felt numb. All those people… dead at her hands.

_This isn’t happening. I’m at Hope’s Peak, sitting at a desk. I can smell the spring air._

She exited the schoolhouse. Her squad stood in a loose circle, dead silent.

Vas approached her. “What… what should we do?”

“What do you mean?” Mukuro replied, voice toneless.

“We… I mean, we…”

“We report back to base. That’s it.”

“But-”

“That’s it, Vas.”

He stood there for a moment, uncertainty written all over his face. Mukuro returned his gaze impassively. It was pointless to linger. She walked over to her squad.

“All we found here were villagers massacred by the rebels. Clear?”

Silence.

Mukuro checked the time. They were to be back by 0500, which gave them about four hours to trek back to base. She made her way to the edge of the clearing. Slowly, one by one, her men followed after her.

–

Mukuro breathed slowly and closed her eyes.

_This is a flashback. I can hear people talking in the classroom._

When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at Naegi’s back. She slumped in her chair, covering her eyes with her hand.

Mukuro couldn’t believe how pathetic she was. She clenched her other hand into a fist. If Junko had seen that little episode, she would have ridiculed Mukuro for days.

_How can the Ultimate Soldier get flashbacks? You’re awfully useless, you know. Mukuro, the broken toy soldier._ She could hear the laughter now. What use was a broken tool? She could not let this get the better of her. Steeling herself, she lifted her hand from her eyes-

-only to see the worried face of the boy sitting in front of her.

“Are you okay, Mukuro? You seem awfully pale.”

“I’m fine.” She said tonelessly.

“Um, I could try to find a nurse for you, if–”

“I said I’m fine.” She growled, narrowing her eyes. Naegi flinched, but met her gaze.

“O-okay, sure.” He said, turning around. She saw he was trembling slightly. Mukuro exhaled and looked at the ceiling. Couldn’t he mind his own damn business?

–

More of Makoto’s classmates arrived piecemeal. An extremely large and muscular girl introduced herself as Sakura Ogami, the Ultimate Martial Artist. Another girl, pale, red-eyed, and with raven hair falling in curled pigtails curtsied and identified as Celestia Ludenberg, the Ultimate Gambler. Upon each new arrival, the classroom would briefly erupt into conversation, but then settle back into relative quiet, with some occasional chatter.

A bespectacled boy with blond hair strutted through the door, with an imperious bearing. He wore a white dress shirt, black blazer, and black trousers. He had an air of seriousness about him, and ignored the greetings of his classmates as he took the desk to the left of Makoto’s. Though the newcomer had not given his name, Makoto knew him to be Byakuya Togami.

Another boy entered shortly after. He was rather round, also wore glasses, and had short dark hair that protruded at the top of his head in a point. He introduced himself as Hifumi Yamada, the Ultimate Fanfiction Creator.

After a few minutes, a harried-looking man entered the classroom with a briefcase. He wasn’t quite unkempt, but he had an appealing roughness to his appearance. The man had short blond hair and stubble on his chin. He wore a denim jacket, T-shirt, and black leather pants. Around his neck hung some kind of ornament, but Makoto couldn’t make out what it looked like.

Sitting down at the big desk, the man cleared his throat. “Hi, hi, good afternoon, everyone. My name is Ren Uehara, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher from now on.”

Makoto looked at him curiously. Uehara ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, it seems we still have two students absent. That’s fine, I can tell you a little bit about myself, and then we’ll do introductions.”

He paused. “As I said, my name is Ren Uehara. I’m an alumni of Hope’s Peak Academy, and my talent– well, that’s not really important.”

“What do you mean, your talent isn’t important?” Byakuya interjected.

“As a teacher, there are certain barriers I have to maintain between myself and my students.” Uehara replied without missing a beat. “I also teach students in the Reserve Course, and I find that identifying myself as an Ultimate alienates me from them in an unwelcome way. Even though this is the Main Course, I don’t want you to think of me in terms of a title. I want you to think of me as a teacher.”

Byakuya looked unsatisfied. Uehara continued.

“I’ve traveled the world, working for various government agencies, but my main focus is counselling for young people. Hope’s Peak invited me to teach two years ago, and I’ve been here ever since.”

Uehara’s eyes ran over the classroom. Just then, two people crashed through the door, hunched over and panting from apparent exertion. The first to enter was a guy, ginger hair protruding forward off his head, clearly dyed. He wore a white undershirt and black leather jacket, appearing as if he’d walked off a movie set. The other girl exuded a chic confidence, with strawberry blonde hair, a black and white blouse, and a peculiar set of bear hairpins tied to her twin pigtails. Describing her as beautiful would be an understatement. She looked familiar to Makoto for some reason.

“Yo.” The red-haired guy raised his hand, still breathing heavily. “Sorry… we’re so late.”

“Yeah… we were exploring… the school…” The blonde said airily.

“Whoa, it’s Junko Enoshima!” Aoi whispered excitedly.

Junko Enoshima? Makoto racked his brain. He had definitely seen this girl before.

“That’s okay.” Uehara replied, unfazed. “What matters is that you’re here now. Oh, could you introduce yourselves before you sit down? This is as good a start as any to class introductions.”

“Sure!” The blonde said sweetly. All eyes were on her as she made her way to the front and center of the classroom. She put her hands on her hips and smiled, but her frosty blue eyes didn’t quite match the rest of her face.

“My name is Junko Enoshima!” she proclaimed. “I’m the Ultimate Fashionista. It’s nice to meet you all!”

Fashionista? Then, it clicked. Makoto recalled seeing her on the covers of magazines everywhere.

Junko took the last desk of the row in front of Makoto. The other guy, hands at his sides, gave a wide grin.

“Hey guys. Nice to meet ya. Name’s Mondo Owada. They call me the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader, and I am, but what the hell do they know?”

Mondo strutted forward and took a seat somewhere behind Makoto.

Uehara looked somewhat amused. “Thank you both. Now, I suppose we’ll proceed in alphabetical order.”

Aoi and Chihiro introduced themselves again without much fuss, although everyone melted at Chihiro’s smile.

“Damn. I call myself a man, but that’s just too much.” Mondo muttered.

Chihiro took her seat. “Ms. Fukawa?” Uehara asked.

Makoto heard movement behind him. The bespectacled brown-haired girl who had been writing when he entered the room moved to the fore, trembling as she turned to face the class.

“N-not that you’ll remember… but my name is T-Toko. Toko F-Fukawa.” Her eyes darted around the classroom.

“Could you tell us your talent? Uehara asked gently.

Toko pressed her fingers together. “They c-call me the Ultimate Author.”

“Thank you, Toko.”

She took her seat again, head hiding under her arms.

Yasuhiro introduced himself, flamboyant as always.

“Ms. Ikusaba?”

Mukuro stood up, and walked to the front of the class. She moved, not with grace, but with an economy of movement exemplified in predators. Makoto thought she looked ill earlier, like she was suffering a terrible headache, but Mukuro had flatly rejected his offer to get a nurse.

She looked at the class, eyes blank, far from the ferocious glare he had received earlier. Those eyes still scared him.

“My name is Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier.”

Makoto’s blood went cold and an uncomfortable silence settled over the classroom. Ultimate… Soldier? There was no way you could earn a title like “Ultimate Soldier” without fighting in a real conflict.

That made Mukuro a killer.

–

Mukuro surveyed the room for a moment, face impassive. Her classmates avoided her gaze, but she could read their body language clearly. Fear. Anxiety. Hostility. Defiance. These were emotions she understood.

Her sister sat by the window, sneering. Junko had anticipated that Mukuro would be ostracized from the very start. Her whole talent revolved around murdering people with greater efficiency than anybody else. What was a soldier’s job if not to pull the trigger?

Yes, Mukuro had killed hundreds of enemy combatants and civilians. She was a monster pretending to humanity, a twisted means to an end. Junko gave her accursed existence purpose, and until she finally died, she would fulfill that purpose to the best of her ability. Yes, without her sister, Mukuro was worthless.

Uehara snapped her out of her reverie. “Thank you, Mukuro.”

She moved back to her desk, semi-conscious. As Mukuro passed through the rows of desks, she noticed Naegi looking at her again, his eyes sympathetic. She clenched her fists. Why? Why was this boy pitying her? She resisted an urge to harm Naegi and sat down and covered her eyes with her hand.

One by one, the rest of the class introduced themselves After Hifumi had taken his seat, Uehara rose to the podium.

“Well met everyone, well met. Now, shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a provisional chapter total of twenty-five to give readers a sense of the length I'm shooting for.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


	4. Orientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this chapter late. I don't have any good excuses, I just slacked and fell behind on my writing. Hopefully, it won't happen again. Please enjoy Chapter 4.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut

Uehara began to pace back and forth behind the podium.

“You are all very talented individuals, but relying on only a single talent restricts what you can achieve. I want you all to broaden your horizons and realize the limits of your own abilities. To that end, I will be assigning you a task that must be completed by the end of the month.”

Mukuro scowled. This sounded like a colossal waste of time.

Uehara withdrew some index cards from his briefcase. Reading the first one, he walked over to Kirigiri’s desk and placed it facedown.

“If you would all be so kind as to refrain from reading your card until I hand them all out, I will take questions after.”

One by one, he put a card on every student’s desk. Mukuro looked at the card with suspicion. Why would Uehara tell them not to read the cards until all of them were handed out?

At last, he returned to the speaker’s podium. Everyone around Mukuro picked up their cards, scanning the contents. Muttering erupted all over the room.

“How the hell am I supposed to program a robot?” Mondo asked, annoyed. “I hate to break it to you fancy academic types, but I wasn’t building many robots on the open road.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with that lowlife, I must concur.” Byakuya said. “Why would the scion of the Togami family appear in such petty pageantry as a fashion show?”

"Who you callin' a lowlife, you son of a bitch?" Mondo said furiously.

“Hey! Don’t look down on fashion shows!” Junko exclaimed. “That’s way better than my dumb assignment. I mean, do they know how much I make in a month? There’s no way I can pull together ten million yen in a month!”

“Ten… million?” Hagakure said, giving Junko an incredulous look. “That’s a joke, right? You’re kidding.”

“W-W-What is this degrading t-task?” Toko sputtered, hands shaking.

The muttering turned into an uproar as confused voices yelled questions over each other.

Mukuro reluctantly turned over her own card in the midst of the furor. Written neatly on the back were a few words.

“ _Make a friend._ ”

Make a friend? Was this serious?

“Alright, settle down.” Uehara’s voice rang out, clear and commanding. The voices died down, and an uneasy silence settled over the room.

“Each task has been tailored to force each of you out of your comfort zones. Though each task appears difficult, or even impossible, the astute among you may have noticed that each one corresponds to a different talent in this classroom. You will pair up with another student, and teach each other enough to accomplish your respective tasks by the end of the month.”

“And if we fail?” Chihiro asked, voice quavering.

“Or refuse?” Byakuya demanded.

Uehara paused before answering. “You’ll be expelled.”

Silence.

Uehara smiled apologetically. “It’s harsh, I know. But for this exercise to work, you need to give it your all. No one from the class before you failed, so it’s perfectly possible for everyone to complete their tasks. I structured this month’s curriculum around these goals. Each of you will have plenty of time to work with your partner. In addition to that, you will attend fundamental classes covering subjects like mathematics, the natural sciences, social studies, and so on.”

He paused. “Now, strictly speaking, the fundamental classes are not mandatory for Main Course students. They also probably won’t be of use to you in completing your tasks. However, I expect you to attend your classes and complete the assigned work with due diligence. It is a critical part of your experience, not as Ultimates, but as high school students.”

“Your schedules should have been sent out to you by now. After homeroom, each pair will go to one of their Ultimate labs. If it’s your lab, begin to teach your partner how to complete their task. After an hour and forty minutes, you’ll switch labs. Then you’ll eat lunch together as a class. Sound good?”

A few people muttered affirmations.

Uehara chuckled. “That will do for now. Are there any questions?”

Nobody spoke or raised a hand.

“Very well. I trust you all to find your partners and make your way to the labs. Your E-Handbooks have maps of the school that show you where to go. I'll see you all after lunch.”

With that, he took his briefcase and strolled out of the classroom.

“What the hell kinda orientation is this?” Owada said, scratching the back of his head.

“Will they seriously expel us if we fail?” Asahina asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“I don’t see why not.” Togami replied harshly. “This is Hope’s Peak Academy. Were you expecting some mediocre curriculum?”

“Geez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” Asahina said, pouting.

“I agree with Ms. Asahina! You would do well to moderate your tone, Mr. Togami. We are classmates, after all.” Ishimaru said.

“We may be classmates, but that doesn’t make us equals. In fact, don’t bother speaking to me.” Byakuya stood up and left the room without another word.

“What’s his problem?” Maizono asked.

“Beats me.” Kuwata replied. “Hey, idol girl, you got a baseball-related task by any chance?”

The room burst into conversation as people sought out their partners. Mukuro was not sure which student she had been paired up with. She had reviewed the files of every person in Class 78, but none of the talents seemed to fit her task. Mukuro glanced over at her sister’s desk, but Junko had already left. Judging from Togami’s earlier remark about a fashion show, Mukuro suspected he was her sister’s partner.

Kuwata and Maizono left the classroom, followed by Asahina and Ogami. Fujisaki nervously approached Owada’s desk, and the two struck up a tentative conversation. The room emptied out until only Mukuro and Naegi remained.

Her irritation flared. She supposed he was her partner. What did luck have to do with making friends? Why had she been paired with this useless boy?

Then again, Junko had determined Naegi to be the biggest threat of Class 78. This was almost too perfect a situation for keeping an eye on him. Mukuro wondered if her sister had somehow arranged this pairing.

Still, this was absurd. Mukuro had a long list of things to do, and every minute she spent completing this inane task wasted precious time.

She got up and stood next to his desk.

“Task.” It was less a question than a demand.

Naegi jumped. “O-oh, I have to… shoot a target at six hundred meters.”

“Get up. We have work to do.”

“R-right.”

–

Makoto looked around in amazement. Mukuro’s Ultimate lab was the size of a gymnasium. Firearms of all shapes and sizes covered the right wall, while a shooting range occupied the left. A training course dominated much of the room, complete with wooden dummy targets, sandbags for cover, crates, and a small building. The room also had punching bags, exercise mats, a workbench, and other assorted stations dealing with the different aspects of soldiering.

Makoto looked over at Mukuro, unemotional as ever. She walked over to the arsenal, took down a number of guns, and examined them closely.

“Come over here.”

Makoto was still surprised to hear her speak. He walked over meekly.

“There’s more to marksmanship than just pulling the trigger. Do as many push-ups as you can over there.” She nodded towards the mats.

Makoto wasn’t sure what physical strength had to do with hitting a target, but he went over to the mats and began to do push-ups. He was not particularly athletic, and managed thirty-five push-ups before collapsing from exhaustion.

“Is that the best you can do?”

Panting, he looked up from the ground to see Mukuro staring at him, eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“I-“

“Forget it. Sit-ups, same as before.”

This continued for about an hour, with Makoto exercising until he felt exhausted, and Mukuro berating Makoto on his poor performance.

“Seriously, there must be some limit on your uselessness, right?”

Makoto struggled to his feet, a spark of anger flaring.

“Hey, I’m not the Ultimate Athlete.” He snapped. “I never played any sports in school. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Excuses. How are you going to complete your task with such a pathetic showing?”

Makoto’s frustration boiled over. “I haven’t fired a single shot since I got here. I don’t know how I’d complete my task either way!”

They stared at each other, but Makoto couldn’t look her in the eyes for long. He sat down on the mat, head bowed. Mukuro’s footsteps moved away. Makoto sighed. This was not how he thought his orientation at Hope’s Peak would go.

As soon as he laid eyes on his task, dread settled on him like a weight. Makoto didn’t know the first thing about guns. He had played a few shooters with Takuya, but firing a real gun was probably worlds away. To compound matters, his partner was Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier. Makoto got the vague sense that she disliked him, but he couldn’t figure out why. Surely his joke in the hallway didn’t qualify for such rough treatment.

Still, Makoto felt some guilt. He hadn’t meant to snap at Mukuro, but his exhaustion and frustration had gotten the better of him. He supposed he would have to apologize, but his legs felt like jelly.

Mukuro had taken one of the guns from the armory and began to practice at the shooting range. Ears covered in protective muffs, she fired in short bursts. Every time Makoto heard the crack of gunfire, one of the targets would fall backwards like clockwork. The loudness of the shooting astonished him.

She stopped firing after a minute. Pressing a button on a control panel nearby, the targets sprang back to their starting positions. Squinting, Makoto could just make out an unbelievable sight. The targets appeared to have only one bullet hole in them, but he knew for a fact that Mukuro had been firing in bursts. The only explanation Makoto could think of was that every bullet had passed through the same point on each target.

Mukuro examined her handiwork, then carried her weapon over to the small workshop. For several minutes she hunched over it, working, and then she returned it to the arsenal. Makoto sat, still dazed, as she approached the mats. Getting down on her hands, she began to do push-ups so quickly that Makoto lost count. She ran through a number of other exercises too, lightning fast and with at least a hundred repetitions each. Makoto stared at her, awed, as she rose and disappeared into a door on the other side of the mats.

He fell back onto the mats, arms spread-eagled.

“What did I get myself into?”

After this, Makoto recalled, they would move to his lab, the appearance of which he could not even guess at. On top of that, Mukuro had never told him her task. He didn’t know what he could teach someone as capable as her.

He got to his feet and stumbled over to his backpack. Taking out his phone, he read a new text from Takuya.

“ _same old same old. my classmates aren’t bad either, but no substitute for my fine associate at hope’s peak._ ”

Makoto snorted. “ _they gave us tasks for orientation. mine is to shoot a target at 600m._ ” he texted back. Unsure of how to explain his situation, he kept his reply vague.

Putting the phone back in his bag, he glanced over at the firing range and its perforated targets. Walking over, he took a closer look at them from behind the firing line. The hole created by Mukuro’s bullets was not perfectly circular, evidence that her firing was not as pinpoint as he had thought earlier. Still, Makoto didn’t need expertise to know her shooting was supernatural.

He turned around to see Mukuro staring at him, eyes cold.

“Ah!” he stumbled backwards unconsciously. “Oh, Mukuro, sorry, I just-”

She narrowed her eyes. “There’s a shower in that back room. I suggest you use it.”

Turning her back, she walked over to the entrance and sat down, eyes closed. Shaking his head, Makoto made his way over to the back door, showered, changed back into his old clothes, and came out.

Tentatively, so as not to disturb his partner, he made his way over to his bag and checked the time on his phone. In ten minutes, they would head to Makoto’s lab. There was also a text from Takuya.

“ _like, shoot a gun? that’s a joke, right? it’s honestly not your best._ ”

How Makoto wished it was a joke. Sitting down, he typed a reply.

“ _no, this is actually for orientation. the ultimate soldier is_ – he hesitated – _teaching me to shoot. if i don't complete my task by the end of the month, i'll be expelled._ ”

An awkward silence now fell, Makoto waiting until it was time to move, and Mukuro still resting against the wall.

Once the time came, he stood up.

“Ready?”

Mukuro opened her eyes, stood, grabbed her backpack, and departed without another word. Makoto scurried after her.

–

After following the map in his E-Handbook, Makoto and Mukuro came to a door almost indistinct from the others they had seen in the academy. Unlike the classroom doors, however, the door to Makoto’s lab had no window, so the inside could not be seen. It also had a black card reader.

“Are you going to open the door?” Mukuro asked flatly.

“O-oh, sorry.” Makoto took his E-Handbook out and swiped it across the reader next to the door. A faint click sounded. He looked inside.

“What the hell?” Makoto muttered.

The interior looked quite similar to his room at home. Posters of popular anime, bands, and manga hung on the walls. Two small shelves held books and manga. Still, it could not be mistaken for a bedroom. Rather than a bed, the room had some comfortable looking armchairs and a large couch sitting in front of a TV. Makoto could see a few game consoles in the cabinet that the TV stood on. Windows to either side of the TV looked out on one of the courtyards of Hope’s Peak. There was also a mini fridge, a desk, some board games stacked neatly near the cabinet, and a coffee table sitting in the midst of the sofa and chairs.

On the one hand, Makoto liked everything about the room. To him, it looked like the perfect place to invite friends and enjoy yourself. However, it was creepy how well whoever had designed this room seemed to know him. Perhaps the school had asked his parents for information, but they had never mentioned it to him.

The room didn’t allude to Makoto’s supposed talent in any way, either. That sort of made sense, as he had just won a lottery to enter the school. What would they have put in the lab of the Ultimate Lucky Student? Slot machines?

Makoto stepped inside, but Mukuro stood stone-faced in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She said. Setting her backpack down near the door, she sat in one of the armchairs.

Makoto looked through the mini fridge. Water bottles, soda, energy drinks, and iced tea occupied the interior.

“You want some water?”

“No.”

Makoto took two bottles in case she changed her mind. He carried them to the coffee table and set them down, taking a seat on the couch.

Mukuro looked at him, annoyed. “Are you deaf?”

“W-well, we just exercised for a while. It’s better to stay hydrated, don’t you think?”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Makoto sipping his bottle, Mukuro not touching hers. He wasn’t sure how to break the ice, but it would probably be best to start with her assignment.

“So, what task did you get for orientation?” Makoto asked.

Mukuro said nothing for a long moment. “Make a friend.”

Makoto felt relieved. He was afraid she would say something like “win the lottery” or something. How could you teach someone to be lucky?

“Oh. That shouldn’t be too hard.” He said earnestly. “Er, do you have any friends outside of Hope’s Peak?”

“No.”

“What about classmates from past schools? Do you keep in touch with anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Here she paused. “Yes. Junko’s my twin sister.”

“Really?” Makoto said, surprised. “For siblings, you don’t look much alike.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“O-oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Spare me.”

He hung his head. So far, so catastrophic. Still, Mukuro was taking the time to teach him how to accomplish his task. Makoto owed her his best efforts in turn.

“I was only surprised because I have a sister as well. We look quite similar.”

No response. A minute passed. Maybe clearing the air would help.

Makoto looked at her. “Um, I’m sorry I snapped at you during training earlier. Even if I don’t understand, I should just trust in your training, right?”

She sighed, covering her eyes with her hand. “Just shut up and follow my instructions. You’ll be able to complete your task by month’s end.”

Somehow, Makoto felt reassured. He smiled. “Thanks, Mukuro.”

She looked at him, eyes betraying nothing.

–

Mukuro sipped some of her water as Naegi babbled. She still couldn’t understand why Junko thought this boy was such a threat. If anything, spending time with him convinced Mukuro of her earlier assertion. Physically, Naegi was about average. He didn’t seem to possess outstanding intelligence or perceptiveness.

No, it was the sheer lack of anything abnormal about Naegi that set off alarm bells for Mukuro. The mere fact that she didn’t feel threatened by someone her sister thought dangerous sat ill with her. He had a disarming optimism about him, and his attempts to pry a conversation out of her felt painfully earnest. The tension she always felt wavered as time passed.

But every moment of weakness brought a renewed sense of vigilance, and fury with herself at letting her guard down.

“Mukuro? Are you feeling okay?”

She blinked. “I’m fine. Why are you nagging me?”

Naegi looked at the ground. “W-well, in the classroom, you seemed pretty off. I know you said you were fine, but you looked like you had seen a ghost. Your hands were shaking. I just thought you might have a cold, or something.”

Mukuro cursed her own weakness. If Naegi had noticed that episode, anyone could have. She could not show any weakness, not in the classroom, and certainly not on a mission.

“It’s none of your concern.” She said coldly.

Her current dilemma was twofold. First, Naegi now suspected she might be ill. The situation could become extremely bothersome if she suffered another flashback while they were together. He didn’t seem the type to leave people alone with their problems.

Mukuro’s other concern was her orientation task. As per her sister’s instructions, she was to remain in the Academy as long as needed. That meant completing the task set for her. She had made no room for friends in Fenrir, dedicating herself to becoming the Ultimate Soldier. She never sought out friends before joining the mercenaries, as Junko had work for her even then.

“No, that’s wrong.”

Naegi’s voice brought her back to the present.

“We’re partners, so your health is important to me. Plus, if all else fails, I’ll become your friend so that you can complete your task. Friends care about each other, right?”

Mukuro gave him a look of disgust.

“Ugh… how can you say something so corny? You’re making me sick.” She said finally.

Naegi actually chuckled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”


	5. Weekend Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hopefully, it won't happen again."
> 
> Infamous last words. Enjoy Chapter 5.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut

Their conversations went on like that for the rest of the week. Makoto did most of the talking, and Mukuro would occasionally respond. Makoto’s training continued, and he returned to his dorm room sore every single night.

On Friday, he got back even later than usual. Some of his classmates, led by Sayaka, held everyone up at dinner trying to plan something for the weekend. Eventually, everyone agreed on a picnic in the park, where they could appreciate the cherry blossoms in full bloom. Well, almost everyone – Byakuya, Mukuro, and Toko sat alone. Makoto had agreed to bring water bottles, but avoided cooking duty, as his experience was limited to heating up instant ramen.

Makoto kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the bed. He leaned back, hands behind his head, and looked at the ceiling. Mukuro had informed him that they would practice on the firing range next week, and the initial dread he’d felt at his task had faded to a dull worry.

Mukuro’s task worried him more. Her abrasiveness didn’t lend itself to making friends. She tended to be standoffish, quick to anger, and taciturn. Her more caustic remarks no longer bothered Makoto, but he did wonder why she felt the need to make them in the first place.

What had her life as a soldier been like? Makoto wasn’t even sure he wanted the answer.

How could he make her feel more at ease?

“Maybe she’d enjoy a shooter…” he mumbled idly.

He supposed it was worth a try. His lab did contain game consoles and a pretty extensive selection of games. Even if that failed, the trip to the park presented another opportunity for Mukuro to make friends, assuming she went. Junko might invite her, but just to be sure, he would text her. Makoto reached towards his phone, but stopped midway. He sighed.

“I don’t even have her number.”

He could ask her for it after their training tomorrow. Hope’s Peak had classes on Saturday, but only in the morning.

Checking his phone, Makoto saw a text from Takuya.

“ _you make it through your first week with the sarge?_ ” Takuya referred to Mukuro as “Sarge.”

“ _yeah, i’m sore every day, but it’s not too bad._ ”

“ _everyone’s talking about the train bombing at school. one guy’s uncle got caught up in it. luckily his uncle’s ok, but the attacks keep coming._ ”

Another train bombing had taken place the day before. Makoto avoided watching the news because it never covered anything good. He’d texted his parents to make sure they were okay, but only his dad took the train regularly. Makoto’s mom assured him that his dad would avoid the train for a few weeks, cycling to work instead.

“ _hopefully they catch whoever’s behind the bombings soon._ ” He texted.

Makoto put his phone aside and prepared for bed. Training tomorrow would be brutal, but at least he had the weekend to look forward to. With that, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

–

“Geez, why won’t the government declare a state of emergency already! I know they want to preserve their precious economy, but at this rate they won’t be able to stop the bombings!” Junko cackled. “Or at least, that’s the argument the security services will make, and that argument grows more persuasive by the day.”

She paced back and forth in the city apartment of her sister, Mukuro Ikusaba. The useless girl still hadn’t returned from scouting the next target. Several paper maps sat on top of the kitchen table, marked up in black and red pen. Some showed city layouts, others regions in Japan, one the whole country. Certain areas were crossed off, others circled.

“Ultimate Soldier my foot!” She spat. “She should at least be competent enough to return a little early. Making me wait is worthy of a hefty punishment, you know?”

Despite her sister’s worthlessness, the plan was coming along splendidly. The probability of the government declaring a state of emergency grew with every assassination or bombing. Once the state of emergency was declared, the government would use its emergency powers to increase policing, restrict civil liberties, and clamp down on dissenters.

Not only would this bring economic disruption as markets reacted to Japanese instability, but popular discontent would grow as well. The same pressure that pushed the government to assume new powers would soon chafe under its new restrictions. The killings would not stop. Anger would build at the ineffectiveness of the government, which would proceed to crack down on dissent. The mob would reach a tipping point, and all she would have to do was push them over the edge. The government would play right into her hands.

True, all of this rested purely on her own probabilities, but the Ultimate Analyst had never failed to foresee all possible outcomes. Her true genius lied not in her ability to see one future, but to see all of them. That allowed her to prepare for every outcome, all but guaranteeing success. Small chances of failure existed, but she preserved those in the interest of fairness. Knowing who wins spoils the fun of any game, after all, and she could not discount the despair of losing. She smiled, but the malice on her face was unmistakable.

Hope’s Peak provided a golden opportunity to expand her toolbox. Right now, she had only Mukuro, and though the Ultimate Soldier had her uses, she was a blunt instrument at the best of times. No, Junko needed other subordinates for the more delicate work of fomenting despair. She had her eye on several upperclassmen, and even a few students in the Reserve Course. Hope's Peak would play a key role in sending her plan into motion.

The sound of an unlocking door interrupted Junko’s musings.

“Welcome home, sister dear.” Junko said, venom dripping from every syllable.

Mukuro shut the door behind her. “All the locations appear viable, with the best being the second. The rush hour crowding will ensure maximum damage.”

Junko sighed. “I knew you would suggest that. How boring. Think harder, sister dear. Our goal is to attract as much attention from the press as possible. One of the other targets fits the bill much better.”

Mukuro stood still for a moment. “You mean the elementary school.”

Junko let out a shrill giggle. “Maybe you have a few brain cells rattling around in that ugly cranium of yours after all. Yes, there’s nothing quite like seeing the charred corpses of what was once the promising future on national television. In terms of absolute casualty figures, the station outstrips the school by quite a bit, but emotional value is what dictates media coverage.”

Mukuro nodded. “Very well. What of the next individual target?”

Junko turned her back to Mukuro. “The finance minister's demise didn't trigger as much economic disruption as I wanted. The head of a major conglomerate should do the trick. I’ll leave it to you to scout suitable candidates.”

Junko grinned. “Give special priority to the head of the Togami Corporation. I want to see Togami’s despair in person.”

“As you wish.”

Junko sniggered. “Your deference never fails to nauseate, sister dear. How goes your training with Lucky Boy?” Here her voice changed into a cutesy affectation as her fists went to her chin. “Have you made a friend? Or something _more_?”

She giggled again. Mukuro lowered her head. Lightning fast, Junko pulled a knife out of her blouse and threw it straight at her sister’s head. Mukuro’s head shot up and she caught the blade between her palms, uninjured and unfazed.

“Not your best attempt, sister.” Mukuro said, toneless.

“Aww. One of these days, I really will kill you.”

Mukuro blinked. “I don’t believe that.”

Junko smirked, wondering if her sister really thought that. Her sister was a pawn. A valuable pawn, to be sure, not one to be discarded lightly, but disposable nonetheless.

Her face became deadly serious. “I would do anything to feel despair. Anything to relieve this hopeless boredom. You will help me, won’t you, sister dear? Don’t leave me alone.”

“Never.”

Junko smiled. Mukuro’s devotion to her stemmed, she suspected, from self-hatred. After what she had done in Fenrir, and at Junko’s request, her humanity had been chipped away, piece by piece. At last, Mukuro put Junko at the center of her life because she had no other choice. She had no remaining family, no friends, and no associates – Junko had seen to that.

She knew the pitiful girl suffered from flashbacks, probably post-traumatic stress disorder. Her tool grew more worn as time went on, and eventually it would probably break. Junko relished the thought of the despair casting her own sister aside like trash would bring. She felt exhilarated.

One thing bothered her though. Of all the people Uehara could have paired her sister with, he chose Makoto Naegi, the most bothersome of the class. The boy embodied mediocrity in every respect. His talent, though, threw off Junko’s calculations. Naegi was at once the greatest threat to her plans, and the key to her ultimate despair.

Her sister’s task was to make a friend. The chances of Mukuro actually going out of her way to befriend someone hovered somewhere around zero. If Naegi managed to become a “friend” of sorts to Mukuro, that presented a golden opportunity to plunge her sister into the depths of despair once and for all. By eliminating Naegi, Junko could cement Mukuro’s loyalty to her and guarantee her plan's success.

It would be such a shame to waste Naegi’s life just for an old tool, though. She would much prefer to keep him around for a little while yet.

Junko narrowed her eyes. “Togami is such a worthless brat.” She spat. “Luckily, he’s more than willing to skip our little labs, because if I had to spend more than five minutes in his presence, I would probably torture and kill him myself. Speaking of, tell me about Naegi.”

For a moment, Mukuro didn’t respond. Then, closing her eyes-

“He’s a pest.”

“Oh? Why would that be, sister dear?”

“All he does is talk. Even when I don’t respond, he just goes on and on as if he’s allergic to silence. Athletically, he’s pathetic. He can barely manage forty push-ups. Sometimes, he’ll make a terrible joke, or say something so trite it makes me sick.”

Junko let out a shrill giggle. “You’re even harsher than I am. Cut him some slack, he's not the worst-looking boy in the class.”

“I don’t understand why you consider him a threat. He doesn’t even seem particularly lucky.”

Junko donned the glasses of her academic persona. “You should know that appearances can be deceiving, sister dear. Recall for me what I told you about him. I loathe repeating myself, though for someone as dense as you it can’t be helped.”

“His unpredictability threatens the plan.”

“Correct.”

“Is he really that unpredictable?”

Junko pushed her glasses up. “It depends on the context. All human decision-making is irrational to some extent, but my probabilities rely on an underlying assumption of, on average, rational behavior. I define “rationality” in terms of self-preservation, self-interest, et cetera. Makoto Naegi possesses, in part because of his talent, an inordinate irrationality and faith. In certain circumstances, that can mutate and contaminate others, becoming things like hope or camaraderie.”

“All of this will, of course, fly over your thick skull.” She continued, in the same academic tone of voice. “Just know that he poses the greatest threat. I told you what you needed to know at the beginning, you stupid girl. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Mukuro dipped her head. “Of course. I’m sorry, Junko.”

“You should be. Now, I have more important things to do than babysit you. Do your job, or I’ll kill you.”

“Yes, Junko.”

She strode out of the apartment.

Mukuro sat down on her bed. The weekend provided enough time to prepare the next strike, but left precious little room for error.

She looked out the window of her apartment. The labs cut into her time as well. At least in her lab, she could accomplish something productive using the workshop, but the time in Naegi’s lab might as well be spent twiddling her thumbs. Mukuro considered skipping, but reluctantly decided against it. Her sister insisted that Naegi threatened the plan, so Mukuro had a duty to monitor his activity.

Mukuro hadn’t eaten dinner, but she felt too tired to go out and get something. For a long time, she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes closed, but sleep refused to come.

–

Makoto collapsed to the ground, exhausted after the day’s final set of exercises. Panting, he rolled over onto his back.

“Is that… it for… today?” He managed.

“Yes.”

Makoto covered his eyes with his arms. He heard Mukuro walk off in the direction of the showers. The lingering soreness he felt yesterday had erupted into fresh agony. Not quite sure when he would be able to move, he laid on the exercise mats for a long while.

When he had met Mukuro in the morning, she looked worse for wear. She had dark bags under her eyes, disheveled hair, and unfocused eyes. Her demeanor at least appeared unchanged, as she had worked Makoto mercilessly, but he worried that something was really wrong with his partner.

Struggling to his feet, Makoto stumbled over to his backpack and checked the time. To his surprise, their time in Mukuro’s lab should have ended several minutes ago. He looked over to the shower room door. How long had she been in there? If he had exercised as long as he usually did, and Mukuro maintained a pretty tight schedule, then something was off.

Makoto went over to the door, but hesitated. He could hear the running water of the shower. Maybe she was simply taking a longer shower than usual, and besides, Mukuro definitely hated it when he openly worried about her.

Still, even at the risk of her ire, better to be safe than sorry. He knocked. “Mukuro? Are you alright in there?”

No response. The water continued to run. Makoto knocked again.

“Mukuro?”

The water stopped running. Makoto sprang back from the door, but it didn’t open. A minute later, Mukuro emerged, hair still wet.

“Um, are you-”

She silenced him with a glare. He swallowed. Making her way over to the lab door, she sat down next to it and closed her eyes. Makoto watched her walk away, then took a shower himself. Once he emerged, he joined Mukuro near the door and retrieved his backpack.

She stood up. Together they walked out of the room and down the first hallway between Mukuro’s lab and his own.

“Um, are you going to the park today?”

“No.”

Silence. And then-

“Could I get your number? Just in case I… get sick, or something?”

“…I suppose. Give me your phone.”

Makoto unlocked his phone and gave it to her. She fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it back to him.

“Don’t contact me unnecessarily.”

“R-right…”

Arriving at his lab, he opened the door with his E-Handbook. They entered the lab, and Mukuro sat down on the same chair as usual. Makoto opened the drawer full of games, picked a few out, and turned to face Mukuro.

“I-I figured we could play some games today. Would you prefer a shooter, or-”

She glared at him again, and he resisted the urge to shiver. Her eyes seemed even darker than usual. Nevertheless, he summoned his courage.

“L-look, you can’t make friends if you don’t do anything with people. Talking comes first, but eventually friends do things. L-like karaoke, or games, whatever suits them.”

She let out a sigh. “Fine. The shooter works.”

Makoto smiled. “Thanks, Mukuro.”

He took the game from its case and inserted it into the console, which sprang to life. After setting up the TV, he found two controllers and tossed one to Mukuro.

Makoto hadn’t been sure if her talent would translate to skill in the game, but she dominated. They stopped fighting one on one almost immediately once it became clear that he stood no chance. The co-op missions panned out a little better, but Mukuro’s prowess left Makoto with very little to do.

Glancing over at her, Makoto saw her eyes narrowed in concentration. Her fingers glided over the buttons with amazing dexterity. As far as he knew, this was the first time she had ever played a game, let alone a shooter. He enjoyed this intense look far more than the stoic mask Mukuro usually wore.

She noticed him. “Stop looking at me. It’s distracting.”

“S-sorry…”

They continued to play missions of increasing difficulty, but Mukuro handled them all with relative ease. They began a new mission on the highest difficulty, but as Makoto read the objective, he frowned.

“Cross the canyon.” Mukuro said. “That’s all?”

“Sometimes games will give you a task that sounds easy, only to switch it out for something much harder.”

Their soldier characters marched along a sand-blasted desert road with a convoy of military vehicles. Low cliffs surrounded them on both sides. For a while, the soldiers in the game exchanged banter as they continued to march.

Suddenly, explosions ripped through the convoy. “Incoming mortar strike!” A soldier yelled. The sounds of screaming men, bullets, and the heavy impact of mortar shells filled Makoto’s lab. He began to search furiously for targets on the cliffs, to stop the shells raining down, but he noticed Mukuro’s character had stopped moving. He heard the clack of a controller hitting the floor and looked over at her.

Makoto froze.

Mukuro’s hands covered her eyes, and she had curled into a ball on the chair. Though breathing steadily, she trembled. Her controller sat forlornly on the ground, vibrating with the mortar impacts.

He slammed the pause button and jumped up. “Mukuro?”

“Stay back!” she said, her voice unusually high-pitched. “Take cover!”

Makoto had absolutely no idea what to do. Mukuro seemed to be having some sort of episode. He needed to get a nurse, but he couldn’t just leave her alone, could he?

“Mukuro, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” He said, forcing as much calm into his voice as possible.

She didn’t respond. He approached her, slowly kneeled, and gently put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

Sudden, blinding pain consumed him. The next thing Makoto knew, he was lying on the floor next to the coffee table. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, which ached badly. Putting his hands to the floor, he pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning on the couch for support. A wave of nausea washed over him. Gaze blurry, he saw Mukuro’s raised foot slowly retract.

She must have kicked him on reflex. Makoto couldn’t believe his own stupidity.

Even without being able to move, though, he might be able to help her. Last time he saw Mukuro like this, she had repeated her location over and over as if to force herself back to reality.

“M-Mukuro…”

He attempted to speak, but the words came out garbled. Every syllable added to the agony. Steeling himself, he tried again.

“Mukuro, you’re safe. You’re in my lab. You’re safe.”

The words came out semi-comprehensible. His hand went to his jaw and came away bloody. Makoto closed his eyes. Mukuro needed help, and now he couldn’t even make it to the nurse’s office. The only thing he could do was continue to reassure her.

“M-Mukuro, you’re safe. You’re at Hope’s Peak.”

He heard her breathing grow more regular. Makoto felt some relief, overshadowed somewhat by the pain in his jaw.

Almost fading into unconsciousness, his eyes shot open. Mukuro’s shaking had stopped. Makoto knew he wouldn’t be able to stay conscious much longer. He would have to rely on Mukuro to take care of him once she recovered.

“M-Mukuro… you’re safe…”

He collapsed to the ground.

–

Mukuro breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.

She remembered the falling shells. In the mountains of Afghanistan, her unit and a few others had been caught in a kill zone and nearly wiped out. Half of Mukuro’s unit perished during the fighting, and another two men died of their wounds during the evacuation. The screams of dying men, the constant thumping of the mortars, the screeching of shrapnel and blasted steel…

Mukuro opened her eyes to see her partner lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

Shit.

In a flash, she was at his side, pushing the table out of the way to make room. Checking the boy over, he didn’t seem to have any wounds except a contusion on his jaw. It looked like something had hit it with considerable force.

Mukuro recalled feeling someone grab her shoulders sometime during her flashback. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume she had lashed out during the episode and struck Naegi. Indeed, she couldn’t think of another reasonable explanation for his wound. Picking him up, she carried him to the door with little effort, left the lab, and sprinted towards the infirmary.

She grimaced. The amount of blood on the floor indicated a serious injury. Knowing Naegi’s foolishness, he had probably tried to snap her out of the flashback through physical contact. Mukuro supposed he didn’t know any better. She was beyond help.

Reaching the infirmary, she shouted for help. Immediately, a girl with long choppy hair emerged, wearing an apron over a pink shirt. Bandages were wrapped around both her left arm and right leg.

“W-w-what happened?” She shrieked.

“Never mind that. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“S-set him down here. What kind of injury is it?”

“Probably a kick to the jaw.”

“A k-kick to the jaw…?”

Mukuro glared at the girl.

“Eek! Please don’t l-look at me like that… I’ll t-take care of him from here on out, s-so you can go!”

Mukuro nodded. She glanced down at Naegi, laying on one of the infirmary cots. There was nothing more for her to do here. Turning around, she left without another word.


	6. Fresh Wounds

When Makoto came to, he was on a cot in the infirmary of Hope’s Peak, covered by a white blanket. Privacy screens prevented him from seeing the cots to his sides. Bandages wrapped around his head, keeping an ice pack in place around his jaw, which ached. Blinking in confusion, he tried to raise himself.

A flare of agony shot through his skull. The bandages muffled his cry of pain.

A girl dressed in a nurse’s outfit emerged from behind one of the screens.

“T-try not to m-move right now.” She stuttered. “I k-know you probably have a lot of questions, b-but they’ll have to wait until you’re b-better.”

Makoto gave a half nod, but even that caused a sharp twinge.

The girl wore a nervous smile and put her fingers together. “M-my name is Mikan Tsumuki. Nice to meet you. I’m a nurse in the infirmary at Hope’s Peak. A-actually, that’s my talent as well.”

She looked down at Makoto, as if expecting a response. He stared at her.

“R-right, you can’t respond. S-sorry… please don’t hate me.”

Makoto tried to shake his head no, but excruciating pain put a stop to that.

“Eek! I-I’m sorry, but please try not to move. A-anyway, your injury looked pretty bad when that girl brought you here, b-but it’s not as bad as it looks… I think. You d-do have a minor concussion, so try not to m-move.”

So Mukuro had brought him here. She must have carried him. Was she alright? He closed his eyes in frustration.

“I’m going to l-leave some painkillers with water next to your bed. Y-you won’t be able to chew for a while, but you s-should be able to swallow the pills. After that, get some rest. Y-you’re not in any shape to move around or talk.”

Makoto inclined his head wearily. Mikan disappeared and returned with two white pills and a glass of water, which she placed on the small table next to his cot.

“W-well, I’ll be here in the office if you n-need me. Please don’t hesitate to c-call…”

Tears streamed down her face. “I-I’m sorry! I know you can’t talk! I’ll check on you e-every so often!”

With that, she turned and fled. Makoto blinked, unsure what to make of their interaction. Without talking, he couldn’t thank Mikan for her care or ask any questions. Makoto had no idea how long he’d been out, but he could see light filtering in through some kind of shade on the floor nearby. From this, he guessed that it was either Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

What about his phone? Normally, Makoto kept it in his backpack, but after getting Mukuro’s number he had pocketed it. If Mikan hadn’t removed it while he was unconscious, it should still be there. Reaching under the covers, he searched his pockets. He felt the rectangular shape of the phone in his right. Bingo.

Withdrawing the phone, he checked the time. 4:23 in the afternoon, Saturday. He scrolled through a number of text messages from his classmates asking where he was. Makoto realized he had missed the picnic planned for today. Resisting the urge to sigh, he tapped the message from Sayaka and began to type a reply.

“ _i’m really sorry, sayaka! if you’re all still at the park, let everyone know i had an accident during training._ ”

Well, that was half true. Better to avoid dragging Mukuro into it.

 _“i’m in the school infirmary recovering now._ ”

Thinking about it, what had happened to Mukuro while they were playing? Her breathing had sped up. She had curled into a ball, eyes appearing glassy. She had reacted strongly to the sound of the mortar strikes. Maybe the game caught her off-guard?

Makoto knew some soldiers developed psychological issues during wartime, but had assumed Mukuro would tell him if she suffered from anything like that. He paused, cursing his own stupidity.

Why would she ever tell him something like that?

What about Mukuro suggested to him that she would be open about some kind of psychological issue?

Guilt welled up inside him. The game he had suggested they play put Mukuro in that state. He should have made sure she could play beforehand. Makoto had witnessed the Ultimate Soldier’s ailment on the first day of class. Why would a soldier want to play violent games when they’ve experienced the bloodshed and terror of war firsthand?

In the back of his head, Makoto understood that he wasn’t being completely fair to himself. After all, Mukuro herself had approved his choice of game. She hadn’t told him about any condition, and actually resisted queries about her health.

But the feeling of regret in his chest wouldn’t go away. Would she still want to be his partner? Trapped in the infirmary, he couldn’t train or help Mukuro with her task for at least a few days. He felt mounting frustration at his own uselessness, but all he could do for now was abide by Mikan’s orders.

After a moment’s hesitation, he sent a brief text to Mukuro.

“ _are you okay?_ ”

–

Mukuro surveyed the target school’s gymnasium from the stage. Empty of human activity, the room gave off an ominous vibe. Moonlight came through the raised windows on either side, glinting off the immaculate floor.

A number of supporting trusses parallel to each other crossed the vaulted ceiling. A single beam, in turn, supported each truss from underneath. With enough plastic explosives, she could bring the whole ceiling down in on itself and bury the gym’s occupants. It would be as if the building had imploded of its own volition.

Mukuro rubbed her eyes. In recent days, sleep had proven particularly elusive. In the field, a soldier’s sleep was almost always irregular, and in Fenrir any notion of a sleep schedule had to be tossed aside for the sake of expediency. Even when sleep came, nightmares plagued her dreams. She would wake up in the middle of the night every other hour. Come morning, Mukuro usually felt just as exhausted as she had the day before.

Rather than subjecting herself to such fitful rest, Mukuro had undertaken a nighttime reconnaissance mission to the next target. She had learned, scouring the teachers’ offices, that the school always held an assembly at the beginning of the week. After evaluating the gym, Mukuro knew she could use this to her advantage. Nearly every student in the school would be present for the Monday morning assembly. If she timed the detonation right, the whole structure would collapse on top of the entire school body.

Pinpointing the exact time of the assembly would make a remote detonation possible, but was that the best option? Remote detonations carried less personal risk, but more in terms of plan failure. If something unforeseen happened, like the assembly being cancelled, Mukuro would not be around to adjust. The success of the plan mattered far more than her safety, and she would not be easy to apprehend.

She would need to be present at the time of the detonation, in a position that allowed her to observe the auditorium and make a quick escape once the bombs went off. She could dedicate tomorrow night to planting the explosives, but the time she spent observing would cut into her schedule at Hope’s Peak. Although, with the injury Naegi had suffered, he would probably be out of it for at least a week.

Naegi. As far as she knew, he was still recovering at Hope’s Peak. A strange mix of feelings bubbled up inside her at the thought of him. Naegi had been a particular pest that day, first waking her up in the shower with his incessant knocking. Tired as Mukuro was, she took every free opportunity to get some shuteye. His incessant worrying really pissed her off sometimes.

After training, he had badgered her into playing a game with him. To her displeasure, she found that Naegi’s uselessness persisted into the game. One on one became trivial as soon as she learned the controls. The higher difficulty co-op missions proved more interesting, though “fun” was too strong a word.

Then, she suffered another flashback.

Mukuro despised her own weakness. Unwilling to admit any vulnerability, she had asked to play the shooter, thinking it would be the most tolerable option. She knew the risks, and once again failed to control herself. The embers of rage, at herself, at Naegi, and at her own pathetic condition still smoldered within her.

Closing her eyes, she compelled herself to focus on the task at hand.

Mukuro departed the gym and searched for the school principal’s office, avoiding security cameras as she went. She could not find a master schedule in the teacher’s office, but perhaps the principal’s would bring better luck. On silent footsteps, she made her way around the school. Hallways basked in the moonlight, lending the school an eerie glow.

Discovering the principal’s office near the teacher’s, she unlocked the door with a set of keys stolen from the janitor and entered the room. An impressive wooden desk dominated the office, behind which was a large window. Shelves chock-full of files lined both walls. Mukuro rounded the desk and began looking for a master schedule, finding it in one of the drawers. She noted the exact time of the morning assembly on her phone and took a picture for good measure.

Mukuro departed the school and made her way back to her apartment. Her stomach gave a faint growl, which she ignored. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she glanced at her phone. It was 3:54 in the morning. A solitary text from Naegi sat on her screen.

“ _are you okay?_ ”

She couldn’t muster the energy to be annoyed. Eyes unfocused, she stared out the window at the lightening sky, thoughts wandering again.

Naegi’s spell in the infirmary presented a serious problem. Not only would his training schedule be thrown off, but her task would fall by the wayside as well. Had she made any progress? Naegi seemed to be making an effort, but no matter what they did, she felt no closer to completing her task than she had been at the start.

Then again, who would want to be friends with a murderer? She was about to bomb a junior high school. Terrorists didn’t deserve friendship, and Mukuro had chosen to throw any chance of an ordinary life away for her sister’s sake. Maybe Hope’s Peak really had given her an impossible task.

Why would Naegi want to continue working with her, anyway? Why should he even care what happened to her?

It was her fault he was in the infirmary. He had acted stupidly, but it had been because of her own failure. Naegi would be well within his rights to request a different partner. Worse, if he reported what had happened, or told anyone out of some misguided desire to help her, Hope’s Peak would have to act. After all, such a prestigious school couldn’t have someone with her talent walking around campus unattended with known psychological trauma.

Junko would be furious with her for attracting unwanted attention, and if Junko actually cut her off, Mukuro had no future. Resigned to the fact that she would probably never complete her task, Mukuro slumped over in her chair. Her limbs felt like lead, and hopelessness pervaded her every thought. She wanted to shake off this despondency and stand proudly at her sister’s side.

But she couldn’t. Not tonight.

–

“Thank you, Mikan.” Makoto said, voice muffled by bandages. Thankfully, the pain of talking had subsided to a dull ache overnight.

“It’s n-no trouble. D-do you need anything else?”

“No, this is more than enough. I really appreciate it.”

Mikan flushed slightly. “The s-swelling seems to have gone down. It doesn’t h-hurt too much to speak, right?”

“No, I feel fine. I think the painkillers are working.”

“G-good. Please, let me know if you n-need anything else.”

With that, Mikan disappeared again. Makoto flipped through the first few pages of the book she had brought him. It was the latest installment of a series he’d been following since junior high, but it had come out only a week ago. To think Hope’s Peak actually had a copy in their library already…

He had only just started to read when a group of familiar faces entered the nurse’s office.

“Makoto!” Sayaka said, a worried look on her face. “What happened?”

Makoto looked up in surprise. Before he could respond, another member of the group spoke.

“Naegi! Are you feeling any better?” Kiyotaka exclaimed.

“Not so loud. By the looks of it, he might have a concussion.” Aoi admonished.

“Oh, my apologies. Forgive my boorish behavior.”

Sayaka, Kiyotaka, Aoi, and Sakura stood by his bed, concern evident on all their faces. Makoto laid the book atop his blanket and gave a half-hearted smile.

“Hey, guys. Sorry I couldn’t make-”

“Don’t worry about that! What happened to you?” Sayaka interrupted.

“Um, I got hurt during training yesterday. It’s not a big deal, I just have a minor concussion like Aoi said.”

“What manner of training resulted in an injury like this?” Sakura asked.

Makoto resisted the urge to bite his lip. “Um, I…” he racked his brain for some kind of excuse. Knowing Mukuro, she wouldn’t want him to say anything about what had happened, and he wanted to talk to her about it himself before doing anything else.

“T-the gun I was practicing with recoiled harder than I thought, and it hit me in the chin.”

“Gun?!” Asahina put her hand to her mouth. “What kind of task did they give you?”

“His partner _is_ the Ultimate Soldier.” Sakura said.

Makoto thought he saw Sayaka narrow her eyes, but in a flash, she wore the same worried look as before. Perhaps he was seeing things.

“That’s just awful, Makoto. I’m sorry you missed the picnic.” Sayaka said.

“Yeah, the food was delicious, and the blossoms were sooo beautiful! We played a bunch of games and had a blast!” Aoi said cheerfully.

Her face became mournful. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to rub it in your face like that.”

Makoto smiled again. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you all had a good time. You didn’t have to visit me, though. I appreciate it.”

Kiyotaka stood up even straighter, somehow, and raised his fist. “What kind of class would we be if nobody came to check on you? You’re our valued comrade, after all!” He laughed.

“Yeah, what he said.” Aoi added.

“You guys…”

For a while, the group conversed about the picnic, then someone brought up training for their tasks.

“I have a new respect for martial artists after training with Sakura. Their training is super intense!” Aoi said excitedly.

“Aoi is well-suited to the martial arts.” Sakura replied. “I struggle to keep up with her swimming abilities, which are considerable. Perhaps one day I will be able to keep pace.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that Sakura! It’s crazy that you can swim as fast as you can, with your build.”

“You two make an excellent pair!” Kiyotaka declared.

A hint of a blush appeared on Aoi’s cheeks. “Who are you paired with, Kiyo?”

“Kirigiri is teaching me about detective work. It’s quite fascinating to see how the professionals go about bringing justice to the victims of such heinous crimes! I must confess myself somewhat unsuited to the subtler tasks of investigating, though.”

“An unswerving sense of right and wrong isn’t the only qualification for a detective, I guess.” Sayaka noted.

“You’re paired with Leon, right Sayaka?” Makoto asked.

“Right, my task is related to baseball. But it’s much more interesting to hear Leon practice the guitar. He really loves music, and I think it’s cool that he wants to do something unrelated to his talent. His task is to perform at a major concert with his band and earn the applause of the audience. Trust me, for a novice band, it’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Um, that doesn’t sound easy at all.” Makoto said, aghast.

Sayaka looked at him, eyes unusually piercing. “I’m curious about your task, Makoto. You’re paired with Mukuro, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Are you…” she paused, biting her lip. “…doing okay?”

Makoto’s eyes widened fractionally. “U-um, yeah, it’s mostly exercising. We haven’t even started practicing with-”

Stopping mid-sentence, he cursed his own stupidity. The excuse for his injury rested on the idea that he had started practicing with guns. Makoto felt guilty for lying to his classmates, but it couldn’t be helped until he talked to Mukuro.

“Er, practicing with real bullets.”

“You’ll have to practice with real bullets?!” Aoi exclaimed, her hand at her mouth again.

“I trust you’re taking the appropriate safety measures, regardless?” Kiyotaka inquired.

“Y-yes, Mukuro makes sure of that.”

“How is she? Like, as a teacher.” Sayaka asked.

“W-well, she’s pretty strict. I come back to my dorm sore every day. Hopefully it won’t be as bad next week.”

Aoi smiled, her face somewhat relieved. “I’m glad it’s mostly exercise. The Ultimate Soldier is a pretty scary title, so I wasn’t sure what you’d be doing.”

“Speaking of, perhaps we should begin our supplementary drills, Aoi.” Sakura opined.

“Oh! You’re right. This beautiful weather won’t hold forever, and then it’ll be super hot out.” She looked at Makoto. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Makoto. We’ll see you next week, right?”

“I hope so.”

Kiyotaka crossed his arms. “Follow the nurse’s orders and take care of yourself, Naegi.” He instructed. “That way, you’ll get better in no time!”

“R-right…”

Sayaka looked at the group. “We should all be off so you can rest. Take care, Makoto.”

They began to depart the infirmary, but as he heard Sakura open the door, Makoto noticed a pink-and-white wallet fall to the floor next to Sayaka, to the rear of the group. Before he could say something, he looked up to see her staring at him with her finger held over her lips. She turned away and the group filed out without another word.

Was that Sayaka’s wallet? Why had she left it?

Half a minute passed before Sayaka appeared again. Picking up the wallet, she approached his cot once again. She looked pensive.

“Makoto…” she began. “You know I’m psychic, right?”

“Huh? R-right…”

“If something’s bothering you, you know you can rely on me, right?”

Makoto had a sinking feeling that Sayaka knew more than she let on. “Right.”

She looked at Makoto for a long moment. He looked away.

“I-I can’t say anything right now.” Makoto broke the uneasy silence. “B-but I’m thankful you’re here, Sayaka. I-”

She held up her hand, a gentle smile on her face. “I understand. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Actually, what’s your number?”

They traded phones. Taking his phone back, Makoto’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“Sayaka… thank you.”

She gave a radiant smile. “You’re a sweet person, Makoto. Please be careful.” With that, she left the infirmary, leaving Makoto with a warm feeling in his chest.

–

Later on, Makoto called his parents to let them know what was going on, insisting that he felt fine. Though his mother seemed on the verge of rushing over on the spot, his father talked her out of it.

“If you need anything, call us right away.” His mother said, voice fierce.

“Y-yeah, I will.”

He said his goodbyes and hung up. For the rest of the evening he read his book, and before bed texted Mukuro about next week’s training. Mikan told him that he wouldn’t be out of the infirmary until Wednesday, at the earliest. Even then, he would have to take it easy. No training until next week, and only light training until the week after. He worried about accomplishing his task and helping Mukuro complete hers in such a short timeframe.

The next morning, he woke with an aching jaw. After taking more painkillers, Makoto picked up where he had left off in his book. After an hour or so, he heard the infirmary door open.

“W-who is it?” Mikan entered the infirmary from an adjacent room to greet the visitor. The amount of time Mikan spent in the nurse’s office surprised Makoto.

“Hi, hello Mikan. How are you?”

“Mr. Uehara!” Her voice sounded less nervous than usual. “W-what can I do for you?”

“Could I see Mr. Naegi? I have some information for him.”

“Yes, of course. He’s r-right here.”

Makoto watched Mikan lead his scruffy homeroom teacher over. Uehara’s sudden appearance made him slightly apprehensive.

“Morning, Mr. Uehara.”

“Good morning, Mr. Naegi. I heard that you suffered some sort of accident during training?”

“Y-yes, I did.”

Uehara ran his hand through his hair and turned to Mikan. “How long will he be stuck in here?”

“T-two more days, at least.”

Uehara looked at Makoto, pulled over a chair, and sat down next to his cot. “Well, take your time and make a full recovery. I spoke to the administration about extending the due dates for both your task and Mukuro’s, but they would only allow an extra week of prep. Will that be sufficient to complete your task?”

“I-I don’t know, Mr. Uehara. I don’t really know the training schedule. You might be better off asking Mukuro.”

“I see.” Uehara said.

“Thanks for the extension.”

Uehara inclined his head. “Of course. It wouldn’t be fair to penalize you for an accident. While we’re on the subject, you should know that if either partner fails to achieve their goal, both students will be ejected from Hope’s Peak.”

Makoto’s blood ran cold.

“My apologies for neglecting to mention this last Monday. Also, Kiyotaka volunteered to be the class representative. If you want to volunteer as well, we can hold an election next Monday.”

“N-no, that’s fine.”

“As for your fundamental classes, they are not mandatory for Main Course students, so you will not be penalized for missing them. Nonetheless, I encourage you to keep up as best you can. May I send Kiyotaka with the assignments you’re missing?”

“Yes, please.”

Uehara nodded and stood up, a small smile on his face. “Thanks. I appreciate you taking your fundamental classes seriously. Try not to get too anxious about your task. It always works out in the end. Feel better soon.”

“Thanks, Mr. Uehara.”

With that, his teacher put the chair back. “Mikan, thank you for all your hard work and for taking care of my student.”

“T-thank you…”

Uehara turned, held up his hand, and left the infirmary.

–

Mikan left shortly afterward, telling Makoto that there was an emergency situation off the campus of Hope’s Peak.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“S-sorry, I d-don’t know the details, b-but it seems there was some k-kind of incident at a junior high school in the c-city.”

“That’s awful. I’ll be fine here, so hurry over.”

“Y-yes! You’re right. I’m s-such a miserable slowpoke.”

Before Makoto could reply, the nurse bolted out of the infirmary.

Mikan’s departure left Makoto with only his thoughts for company. He was still dwelling on Uehara’s words. Despite his extension and Uehara’s reassurances, his anxiety had only grown. The task had already seemed difficult. This setback might make it nigh impossible.

Worse, Mukuro would fail if he couldn’t complete his task. He felt more optimistic about her chances to succeed, but that would be for naught if he failed in his goal.

Feeling a little hungry, he pulled out his phone to check the time. 9:53 in the morning. Maybe he could sneak down to a vending machine and get something to hold him over until Mikan returned.

But something else had caught his eye. A news notification for another bombing.

At a junior high school called Black Root.

Makoto nearly dropped his phone. Black Root? His mind went blank.

Komaru.

–

Takuya sat in the hospital waiting room alone.

His father and mother had insisted on being with his sister at all times, but to be honest, he couldn’t handle looking at her. Her breathing had been so shallow…

Takuya trembled slightly. The din of the hospital was worse than usual as the family members of the victims had poured in over the course of the day. The crying infants, the sobbing parents, and the broken looks of the bereaved haunted his vision, so Takuya kept his head down.

The powerlessness he felt, and rage at that powerlessness threatened to consume him. His trademark levity had deserted him. Takuya wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to. He clenched his fists in frustration. If only there was something he could do…

Idly, he wondered how the Naegi family was doing. He didn’t know Komaru too well, but she was one of his sister’s friends at Black Root. During his long wait, he’d attempted to find the younger Naegi’s hospital room, but after hours of searching, gave up in frustration. As almost nobody had escaped the bombing uninjured, either he had missed her, or she was at another hospital. He refused to contemplate the third option.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up. His father stood there, tears streaming down his face. Takuya barely heard the words coming out of his mouth. The face told him everything and more. He broke down in tears.

–

Almost immediately after Makoto saw the news, his mother had come to pick him up, giving him a bone-crushing hug in the process. At the hospital, Komaru had greeted them with a smile, her injuries relatively minor- a broken arm and bruises on her legs. In fact, Komaru was in such good shape that the doctor requested the family take her home to free up her bed. Still, at home his mother cried for a good half hour as he, Komaru, and his father tried to lift her spirits.

Makoto slept at home that day, returning to school in the morning. Making his way to the infirmary, he found that a temporary nurse had taken Mikan’s place. After receiving his painkillers and retrieving both his book and the assignments left by Kiyotaka, the nurse informed him that he could recover just as well in his own dorm. She undid his bandages and told him to take some painkillers until the soreness faded entirely. He thanked her, but rather than returning to his dorm strolled around the school grounds.

The sunlight warmed his skin pleasantly, while a light breeze carried blossoms and leaves around the grounds. Makoto’s mind drifted to Takuya, whose younger sister also attended Black Root. Komaru had asked after her, but he hadn’t known and was afraid to ask.

Anger at his own cowardice boiled up. If Takuya didn’t want to talk to him, that was fine, but Makoto wanted him to know that he was there for him.

Just then, his phone vibrated. Makoto looked at the caller ID, which he could barely make out in the sunlight.

“T-Takuya! Is your sister okay?”

“Makoto.”

The harshness of his tone stopped Makoto in his tracks.

“You mentioned once that there was a girl in your class called the Ultimate Detective, right?”

“R-right… Takuya-”

“Stop.”

There was a long pause.

“I- I’m sorry, Makoto. I can’t talk about that right now. I need you to answer my questions.” Takuya’s voice had become pleading.

“O-okay. Yes. Her name’s Kyoko Kirigiri.”

“Would you mind introducing me?”

“Huh? Y-yeah, no problem. I’ll talk to her as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet her at any time. I want to talk about the bombing. Let me know as soon as you talk to her.”

“R-right.”

Another long pause. “Is Komaru okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Makoto could hear Takuya’s breathing become steadier, like he was collecting himself.

“Takuya-”

“Don’t worry, Makoto. I just- I just need some time. Sorry.”

Makoto tried to conceal his worry. “Right. That’s fine. Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” A click.

Makoto looked at his phone, expression a mixture of bewilderment and anxiety. Was Takuya’s sister okay? Why did he want to talk to Kyoko? What was Takuya thinking? How was he feeling? Questions raced through Makoto’s mind, all equally unanswerable for the moment. All he could do was fulfill Takuya’s request…

...and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends,
> 
> Thank you for reading Chapter 6.
> 
> A combination of factors delayed this one's completion for quite a while. The arrival of COVID-19, or the coronavirus, to the United States in force caused some disruption to my routine. In addition, this chapter came out a little longer than I anticipated. Forgive me for the delay.
> 
> I don't know if the next chapter will be released by Monday. I want to keep a regular release schedule, yet sometimes these things require more flexibility. Please bear with me.
> 
> Stay healthy everyone.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


	7. The Depths of Despair

Makoto had stood in the hallway outside Kyoko’s dorm room for almost half an hour thinking about what he would say.

After his conversation with Takuya, he had resolved to speak with Kyoko as soon as possible. After their class dinner, he had made his way to Kyoko’s room. Having raised his hand to knock on the door, he stopped, apprehension building. What if she refused to meet with Takuya? What if she didn’t want to talk to him at all? Hand on his chin, Makoto racked his brain for a way to broach the subject without looking foolish.

Suddenly, the door opened. Makoto jumped, arms shooting up defensively. “Ah!”

Kyoko appeared in the doorway, still donning her jacket and tie.

“Naegi. Why are you lurking outside my door?”

Makoto lowered his arms. Would he ever interact normally with her? With all his worry coming to nothing, might as well be straightforward.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

Her stare bore into him, betraying nothing. He fidgeted.

“I guess there’s no harm in hearing you out.” She said finally.

He let out a relieved breath. “Great. U-um, could we…” He pointed into her room.

“No.” she deadpanned.

“R-right, sorry. Um, I have a friend from junior high named Takuya. We still keep in touch. Did you… hear about the most recent bombing?”

Kyoko nodded. Makoto took a deep breath.

“Well, that was my school. Mine and Takuya’s. And Sayaka’s too, actually. We all attended Black Root together. Takuya and I both have sisters who go there as well. My sister survived the bombing with pretty minor injuries, but Takuya’s sister…”

He looked away. “Takuya didn’t tell me what happened to her. I think she got badly hurt. Before all of this happened, I mentioned to him that I had a classmate whose title was the “Ultimate Detective”. This morning, he called me asking to meet with you about the bombing.”

Kyoko crossed her arms, looking thoughtful. “Why?”

“I-I don’t know. I think he wants you to help him find out who did it.”

She looked at Makoto for a long moment. “What makes him think I can do anything? The regular police and the government are already searching for the perpetrator day and night. It sounds like your friend’s grasping at straws.”

Makoto looked her straight in the eye.

“M-maybe you’re right, but that’s why I’m asking as a favor. Even if it turns out to be nothing, I think meeting you will help Takuya get some closure. Plus, there’s always a small chance to learn something useful.”

He took a deep breath. “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but please.”

Kyoko considered him for a long moment. Makoto felt his hands trembling at his sides. Dealing with her made him feel extremely nervous, perhaps because her face betrayed nothing. Even her tone of voice seemed tightly controlled.

“Alright. I’ll meet your friend. But I need you to tell me something in return.”

Makoto nodded, relieved. “Sure. It’s the least I can do.”

“I want to know about Mukuro Ikusaba. What can you tell me about her?”

Makoto scratched his chin. “Not much you don’t already know, I think. She’s the Ultimate Soldier, but I don’t know where she’s fought or when. Junko is her twin sister, which surprised me, because they don’t look too much alike.”

Kyoko raised her eyebrow fractionally.

“She’s small, but amazingly strong. Her exercise routine blows mine out of the water, and she doesn’t even break a sweat. I saw her practice shooting a few times, and her accuracy is unbelievable. The bullet holes in the targets are so close that its hard to tell there were multiple shots.”

“I heard you were injured while training with her.”

“Y-yeah, the recoil on the gun I was practicing with was more than I thought. It hit me in the chin and knocked me out.”

“Didn’t she warn you about the recoil?”

Makoto tried to keep a straight face, but inside, panic reigned. He hadn’t expected to face a barrage of questions from the Ultimate Detective. Never a good liar, Makoto sought to end this line of inquiry quickly.

“U-um, yeah, but I just- I just messed up.”

Kyoko’s eyes searched his for what seemed like several minutes, then narrowed.

“I see. What can you tell me about her behavior?”

“She doesn’t like to talk. At least to me.” At this, he cast his gaze downward. “She can be really abrasive sometimes, and she hates it when I ask her if she’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

Makoto blinked. “W-well, it’s not that she’s ill or anything, but she always seems annoyed at me when I try to learn about her or make small talk. I just don’t know why she doesn’t seem to like me.”

Makoto raised his head. Kyoko looked thoughtful.

“But when I got injured, she carried me to the infirmary. I-I don’t know what to make of her. She won’t respond to my texts, either.”

“You sound worried.”

Makoto didn’t respond for a moment. “I-I am.”

“Anything else?”

“N-not really. Sorry, I wasn’t much help, was I?”

Kyoko shook her head, eyes closed. “No, actually, I’m grateful. I learned more than I thought I would. However-”

Here her eyes opened and bore into Makoto’s. “-I want you to tell me if you come across anything else of importance.”

Makoto hesitated a beat. “Okay.”

“Good. I’m free on Saturday after lab, but if that doesn’t work for your friend, I’m sure we can work something else out.”

“H-he said any time works for him.”

“Even better. Here, hand me your phone.” They exchanged numbers.

“Well Makoto, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kyoko said, face expressionless.

“R-right… see you tomorrow.”

She shut the door. Makoto breathed out. He’d made it through in one piece. Looking up and down the hallway, he wondered if anyone had overheard their conversation. He began to walk back towards his own room. Gratitude mixed with anxiety in his mind. Kyoko had agreed to meet Takuya, but his friend’s intentions were still a mystery to him. He felt impatience for the weekend, to get this meeting over with.

–

Makoto had been worried about seeing Mukuro in class, but she didn’t show up on Wednesday. Or Thursday. On Friday, Makoto texted her, but to no avail.

By Saturday morning, he could hardly think straight for worry. Was she doing okay? What had happened to her?

Rolling out of bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus. Takuya had arranged to meet with him and Kyoko in the park this afternoon, the same one that Class 78 had chosen for their weekend picnic. Makoto threw himself together and headed for homeroom, reporting to Mukuro’s lab afterwards. Despite her absence and Mikan’s orders, he completed part of his normal exercise routine. The past few days he had just strolled around the grounds of Hope’s Peak during lab, but the longer he put off his routine, the harder it would be once they resumed. If they resumed.

Shortly after lunch ended, Kyoko approached him.

“Are you ready?”

“Y-yeah, let’s head over.”

The park was only a short walk away. Once they arrived, Makoto scanned the area. Takuya had said he would meet them at the main entrance, but there was no sign of him.

A few minutes passed. Makoto checked his phone. Takuya was a few minutes late.

“Your friend isn’t very punctual, is he?” Kyoko said, voice toneless.

“No, just fashionably late.” A cheery voice came from behind them. Makoto whirled around.

“Takuya!”

“In the flesh.”

Takuya looked windblown, like he had done nothing but travel from place to place for the past few days. Dirt stained his jacket and jeans. His raven hair looked particularly unkempt, and Makoto thought he spotted a wood splinter or three hiding in the jumble of curls.

“Are you okay?” Makoto asked.

“I’m fine.” He gave a wry smile. “And I suppose this lovely lady is the Ultimate Detective. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Kyoko narrowed her eyes. “This is your friend?”

Takuya burst out laughing. “She can’t believe an honest lad like you knows a ruffian like me. Well, me and Makoto go way back. Shall we?” He walked into the park.

Following after, Makoto looked at the back of Takuya’s head. He seemed almost normal, like nothing had transpired since they had started high school.

“You’re half right.” Kyoko said. “Your appearance is certainly strange.”

“Sorry, I haven’t had much time for personal grooming lately.” Takuya replied.

“Evidently.” Kyoko deadpanned.

Takuya chuckled, falling back to walk beside both him and Kyoko. “Anyway, let’s get down to business, shall we? I’m sure your time is pretty valuable, and I already squandered some of it by being late. I want to talk about the bombing that occurred last Monday. I’m sure Makoto already told you this, but both of us went to Black Root. Both of us had siblings there at the time of the bombing.

He paused. “Thankfully, Makoto’s sister Komaru is fine. But my sister… she was killed.”

Makoto stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. Takuya’s sister had been killed. Without thinking, he turned and embraced his friend, who stiffened. Relaxing almost as suddenly, Takuya hugged him back. Makoto broke off and stepped back.

“Takuya…” he said. No wonder his manner had been so strange on the phone. It was a wonder he was already back to his buoyant self.

“Ah, Makoto, you warm my heart. Most dudes would say something like ‘It’s not manly to hug another guy!’ or some other nonsense. Not you, though. That’s what makes you great.”

Takuya looked back to Kyoko. “Now, where was I? The bombing, right. The reason I asked to meet with you was to ask for your help. You know that this bombing is only one among many, but even the media knows that much. Alone, I don’t think I can uncover enough to figure out who’s behind these incidents. But with your help, I think we could put an end to the killings.”

Kyoko closed her eyes and shook her head. “What makes you think we can do anything the police can’t? I may be the Ultimate Detective, but that title doesn’t make up for the manpower and resources an investigation on this scale requires.”

Takuya smiled. “Luckily for us, you both attend Hope’s Peak Academy. I’d wager that the Academy’s library has information regular people, even the police, couldn’t dream of accessing. That gives us an edge. Plus, government forces have their own blind spots. It generally takes bureaucracies longer to move than small groups of intrepid students. As for manpower, we’ll just have to take a quality over quantity approach. You are the Ultimate Detective, after all, and if that fails, we’ll just rely on Makoto’s luck.”

Makoto stood there, stunned. “Y-you put a lot of thought into this.”

“Of course. Otherwise, what would be the point of asking you to meet me?”

Kyoko crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “Assuming the information is in the library, if it’s that easy to access someone would have done it already.”

Takuya raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“I think you’re in over your head.” Kyoko continued. “You’ve lost someone close to you, and that’s made you irrational. You can’t pursue the truth like that. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of the professionals’ way.”

Makoto looked over at Kyoko in dismay. “Kyoko-”

“Hang on a minute, Makoto.” Takuya raised his palms. “Let me respond to that.”

Makoto bit his lip, but eventually nodded. Takuya turned to Kyoko, gaze challenging.

“You think I’m angry over Kana’s death. Obviously, I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m acting irrationally.”

At this he covered his mouth with his hand in thought.

“I should have figured from the beginning that you were already investigating. What you said about accessing the information at Hope’s Peak implies either that you already sought it out yourself, or know more about it than you let on. Otherwise, how could you even guess how easy or difficult it was to access? Either way, you must be looking into the killings yourself. In that case, you should know better than anyone that we _could_ uncover the truth.”

Kyoko stayed silent, evidently unfazed.

“You could use my help. There are limits to what one person, even the Ultimate Detective, can achieve alone. You said it yourself- these investigations take manpower. I know this could be dangerous, but no one can uncover the truth without taking risks. But if it brings us closer to stopping the killings, to preventing more suffering, then I will take them gladly. Even if you refuse to let me join you.”

Kyoko looked Takuya in the eye. “Are you sure about that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of anything in my entire life.”

She covered her mouth and chuckled. “How unexpected. Where did you find a person like this, Makoto?”

“M-me?”

Kyoko crossed her arms and addressed Takuya. “At least you know what it takes to seek the truth. Even so, that doesn’t mean I want your help.”

Takuya stared at her. “One way or the other, I will stop the killings. If you don’t want my help, fine.”

Makoto sensed that they would soon reach a boiling point. If this continued, the meeting would have been for nothing. Kyoko had misled them about her investigation, but he partially understood why she had done it. This was a matter for professionals.

Yet, he also empathized with Takuya. Makoto knew his friend to be possessed of unusual intelligence. If anyone could be of use to Kyoko, it would be Takuya.

“D-don’t detectives usually work in pairs?” Makoto managed.

Kyoko turned her head, giving him an annoyed look. “Not always. Besides, in cases like this, the fewer people who are involved, the better. Whoever’s perpetrating these attacks is extremely dangerous.”

She touched her hair, looking almost subdued. “Investigating alone puts the fewest people at risk. Even with the best of intentions, more people leave more opportunities for discovery by whoever’s orchestrating the attacks.”

She turned back to look at Takuya. “I assume you have parents who need you, now more than ever, and you want to put your life on the line? Doesn’t that strike you as incredibly selfish?”

Takuya looked away from her, eyes downcast. “Would it be better to stick my head in the sand when I could help? I don’t want anyone else to lose their sibling, their kid, or their parent.”

“It’s arrogance to think that what you could contribute outweighs the risk.”

“N-no, Kyoko, that’s wrong. Takuya wouldn’t have asked to meet you if he couldn’t do anything. In fact, I’m almost certain he already discovered something- hence his disheveled appearance. Am I wrong, Takuya?”

Takuya gave a small smile. “You ruined my grand reveal, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped. The Ultimate Detective is more stubborn than I thought.”

He held out his hands to either side, as if in prayer, and looked to Kyoko. “Tell me Kyoko, have you seen the site of the bombing?”

“Not yet.”

“Then allow me to enlighten you. I stumbled into an old friend near the school- the janitor, Mr. Nagatsuma. In confidence, he told me that his keys had been stolen a couple days before the bombing. I have never known Mr. Nagatsuma to be negligent, but he withheld the information from police for fear of being fired. I think whoever bombed the school stole the keys.”

Takuya tapped the side of his head. “I also suspect that whoever’s committing these crimes is a professional with access to military-grade explosives. When the gymnasium came down during the assembly, I was told that the building itself appeared to collapse. But it’s harder to execute such a complete detonation than you might think. Not only was the explosion perfectly timed, but the explosives themselves were positioned to bring down the whole building with minimal force.”

Takuya had begun pacing back and forth as he spoke.

“These weren’t the improvised explosives of some terrorist group. Whoever’s behind this is well-funded and well-organized. You could tell as much from the assassinations, as well. No evidence. Nobody claiming responsibility. That’s another sign that terrorists aren’t behind it.”

He stopped and turned to face them. “This is what I have gathered.”

After a moment, Kyoko broke the silence. “Not bad, but you still have a long way to go.”

Takuya looked away, a bitter smile on his face. “I see. Even my best wasn’t enough.”

Kyoko shook her head. “No, I learned something valuable. And… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get help from time to time.”

She turned her back on them. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m still investigating this alone. But, if I need assistance… I’ll let you know.” Her voice had softened a bit at the end.

“That’s all I can ask for.” Takuya replied.

Makoto grinned, though his nerves felt frayed.

“Well, Makoto can give you my number. For now, I have things I need to look into myself. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”

Takuya saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

Kyoko walked away. They hadn’t made it far into the park before stopping. Once she was out of sight, Takuya sighed.

“That was exciting, but now I feel exhausted.”

Makoto rubbed the back of his head. “I hadn’t really talked to her until yesterday. My nerves are still shot.”

Takuya looked around. Blossoming cherry trees lined the pathway into the park. “I’m glad I chose this place to meet. It’d be a shame to let such a nice day go to waste.”

Makoto took a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s nice out here.”

For a minute, they stood in silence.

“You know you can count on me too, right?” Makoto said.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t ask you to help investigate.”

“Takuya, are you really fine? Kana…”

Takuya gave him a look of such sorrow that he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No. But I couldn’t show any weakness in front of someone so sharp. The moment I did, the chance to avenge her would be lost. Besides, I…”

He rubbed the back of his head. “…No, it’s pointless to dwell on it. Sorry to drag you into this. Are you sure about this, by the way? This could definitely get dangerous.”

“I-It’s fine. Actually, if you wouldn’t let me help, I would have been mad.”

Takuya chuckled. “Oh yeah? I’d like to see that someday. How’s Sarge doing, by the way?”

Makoto froze. “Well…”

–

Mukuro came to in her apartment, head down on the kitchen table. Except for a solitary light above the table, the place was dark. She made a token effort to lift her head, but found it impossible. Her mouth felt like a desert. She tried to rise, but collapsed next to her chair, knocking a glass off the table. The glass shattered into pieces, and the chair fell down with a loud clacking sound. Still out of it, she looked towards the window. With the blinds down, she didn’t know the time or even the day.

She remembered sitting at the table. Occasionally, she would fill a cup with tap water and sip at it. Yesterday, she hadn’t felt like going to class, so she didn’t. Or was that two days ago? She considered trying to get up, but resigned herself to staying on the ground until she drifted out of consciousness again. Her body had no energy left.

Mukuro’s instincts were screaming at her to eat something, drink something, _do_ something, but she couldn’t muster the willpower to care. Junko. What if Junko needed her? Hadn’t she asked Mukuro to do something recently? Her memory seemed patchy, short-circuited by whatever state she was in. She felt suppressed, like some silencer was deadening every signal sent out by her brain. Useless.

Would she die here?

That wouldn’t be so bad. This oppressive feeling wouldn’t go away no matter how much she tried to force it out. To escape it would be bliss. To escape the nightmares, the nothingness that pressed down on her every day like a full rucksack. A worthless girl like her had no need to go on living.

No, this end would be heaven itself.

–

A loud sound jolted Mukuro out of her stupor. Crack, crack, crack rang out, louder and louder, like wood splintering. She felt the cool of the kitchen’s tile floor under her head. When had she ended up on the ground?

“MUKURO, YOU USELESS BITCH! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

Mukuro’s eyes shot open. Junko.

She scrambled to her feet and immediately collapsed on unsteady legs. Pain flared through her calves as something cut into her. Trying to get up for a second time, she fell sideways towards the cabinet, slamming into it.

“Ah…” she coughed. Her voice croaked with disuse. Sitting against the counter, she waited for the noise to stop as she assessed her surroundings. The agony coursing through her body had increased her alertness, at least. She heard another voice, much softer.

“You know, most people would just knock. Are you sure she’s even here?”

“Do I look like the sort of person who wastes time breaking down doors to empty apartments? Obviously, I know she’s here.”

Another cracking sound.

“I don’t know what you look like. This is clearly insane.”

“MUKURO, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE BEFORE I SMASH YOUR SKULL IN!”

Crack. Mukuro didn’t even try to get up again.

Crack. “Fucking finally. I swear, when I get my hands on that bitch-”

“Take it easy, would you? Didn’t you bring me here to diagnose her?”

“Yasuke dear, do feel free not to interrupt me when I speak.” Junko said, voice low and threatening. So, Junko had brought Matsuda with her.

“Oh dear, have I made you angry?” he mocked.

Silence. “You’re lucky I like you, Yasuke. Otherwise I would kill you. Now, clear the hallway for me. If this dress gets ruined for that broken toy soldier, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Mukuro could hear the sound of Matsuda scraping his shoe against the floor, clearing the remnants of what she assumed had been her front door. The scraping sound stopped, and a flick of the light switch illuminated the apartment. Matsuda rounded the corner, scanning the bedroom before his gaze reached the kitchen, whereupon he flinched backwards.

“No… oh no. What the hell happened?” Matsuda rushed to Mukuro’s side. Junko walked around the corner, face angrier than Mukuro had ever seen it. In one hand she dragged a huge sledgehammer along the floor. She sneered. “What a pathetic display. Move over. I’ll bash her skull in and wash my hands of her for good.”

Matsuda glared at Junko. “This is your own sister! Can you show a shred of empathy?”

Junko returned his frosty stare. “Let me think about it while you drag her over to the bed.”

Matsuda lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, where he laid her down. Mukuro struggled to process her surroundings. Taking one of her pillowcases, Matsuda went over to the sink, ran some water over it, and held it to the injured part of Mukuro’s leg.

“How long has she been here?” He asked.

“How should I know? I have better things to do than keep track of this invalid. She hasn’t shown up to class this entire week, which means she’s been here for at most six days.”

“Six days?!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of genius boy? Do I really need to repeat myself?”

“Put that fucking sledgehammer away.”

Junko pouted. “Fine.” The hammer dropped with a thud. Matsuda tied the pillowcase to Mukuro’s leg, grabbed a cup out of the cabinet, filled it, and tipped it into her mouth. She coughed, but tasting water, forced it down.

“What’s the prognosis, doctor?” Junko said in her sorrowful affectation. “Will she pull through?”

Matsuda glared at her, but then his gaze turned to Mukuro. He sat down on the bed next to her. “She’s malnourished and severely underweight. Dehydrated too. Judging from what you’ve told me, she already suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, and considering her current state, she probably has major depressive disorder as well.”

He leaned in close. “Can you hear me? Shake your head or something if you can.”

Mukuro blinked.

“Good enough. I doubt she can talk, considering the probable state of her throat.”

Junko sidled over to Matsuda, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I could have guessed as much just by looking at her. Is it fixable?”

“I mean, time heals all wounds, but she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Junko leaned forward and grabbed Mukuro by the chin, tilting her head up. “Yasuke dear, would you mind giving my beloved sister and I some alone time?”

Yasuke looked like he was about to argue, but the look of malice Junko gave him stopped him dead. He clenched his fists.

“Fine.” He stood up and walked out of the apartment. Junko turned back to Mukuro, and for once she was expressionless.

“Listen to me well, sister dear, for I do so despise repeating myself.” Her voice was deadly soft. “If you don’t get your act together, I’ll cut you off. You think you have it bad now? Without me you’d have nothing. Nobody to care about you, nobody who wants you around, nobody who doesn’t look at you like the mass murderer you are. Show up to class tomorrow, or I’ll make you wish you had killed yourself.”

Mukuro couldn’t respond. For the first time in a long time, hurt burned inside of her. Anger as well, though strangely it was not just directed at herself.

Junko dropped her head and stood up, shaking off her hand as if she had touched something disgusting. “Yasuke, we’re heading out. There’s nothing more to be done here.”

The long-haired boy poked his head out of the entrance hallway. “Mukuro’s still in bad shape, though.”

“You gave her water, didn’t you? Sweet of you. I wouldn’t have wasted the effort.”

“At least let me feed her something. She won’t have the energy to move.”

Junko sneered. “If a few days without food is all it takes to defeat the Ultimate Soldier, she shouldn’t have the title in the first place. Leave her.”

“…Very well. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Junko gave a shrill, cold laugh as the two of them walked out of the apartment. One of them turned the lights off.

Mukuro struggled to move. Finally, she managed to curl into a ball near the headboard of her bed. Burying her head in her knees, she could no longer control the emotions that crashed around within her.

Tears slid down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends,
> 
> Thank you for reading Chapter 7. Hope everyone is hale and hearty.
> 
> Writing the end of this chapter made me feel... sad.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


	8. Reunion

On Monday morning, Makoto’s spirits rose to see his long-absent partner sitting in her desk. Her hair fell in a neat bob, while her uniform was immaculate from top to bottom. Even the shoes on her feet glimmered with new polish. But something was badly amiss.

Makoto had thought her slim before, but now she appeared downright skeletal, bones apparent through pallid skin. Dark bags under her eyes gave a ghoulish impression. She stared out the window, eyes unfocused, mouth pressed into a tight line. His heart ached to see her in such a terrible state.

Taking his seat, Makoto resisted a reflexive desire to ask if she was okay. Distracted, he took out his notebook and began to doodle. Hearing the sound of Sayaka taking her seat, he looked over.

“Hey, Sayaka. How was your weekend?”

She returned his gaze and smiled. “I went to the mall with Aoi, Sakura, and Chihiro. It was super fun. Some of my more… dedicated fans tried to get my autograph, but Sakura scared them off.” She giggled. “I’ll have to ask how she does it. What about you?”

“I met some old friends from Black Root at the park. Do you remember Takuya Kisaichi?”

She put her finger to her lip. “Hm, I don’t remember the name, but if I saw him, I’d probably remember.” Her eyes drifted over to Mukuro and widened for a moment, then met Makoto’s again.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen him for a couple weeks, so I thought I would meet up with him again at the park. It’s the same one you guys had the picnic at the weekend before.”

“Oh, that’s great! Did you like the blossoms?”

They continued to talk, but Makoto’s eyes trailed over to where Mukuro was sitting throughout.

Sayaka noticed him glancing back at Mukuro. “Makoto?”

“Huh? O-oh, I’m sorry Sayaka. Could you repeat that?”

She smiled wryly. “It’s rather rude not to listen in conversation, you know.”

He cast his eyes downward, feeling a little guilty. “You’re right. Please excuse me.”

She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “I’m just kidding. No need to take me so seriously. Actually, I have something I wanted to ask Chihiro. I’ll see you at lunch.” With that, she rose from her seat and walked over to a laughing Ultimate Programmer, around whose desk sat Aoi and, surprisingly, Mondo.

Shortly after, Uehara arrived and conducted homeroom. Makoto tapped his foot while he spoke, his worry growing every minute. What had caused Mukuro’s absence? Why did she look so emaciated?

His backpack vibrated slightly next to his desk. His phone?

Uehara finished speaking and dismissed them. As most of the class departed, Makoto reached into his backpack and fished out his phone. A text from Sayaka.

“ _Is Mukuro OK?_ ”

Makoto hesitated a moment before typing a quick reply. “ _i don’t know yet._ ”

Stowing the phone in his pocket, he turned around to face Mukuro. She was staring out the window just as she had been when he arrived.

“You ready?” He asked.

Her head jerked to meet his gaze, eyes wary. Slowly, she rose, brushing past him and leaving without another word. Makoto followed after her, staying back a few steps on the way to her lab. Despite all the questions swimming around in his head, he wasn’t sure where to begin, or how. Besides, now might not be the time to ask, considering how thin she looked. He had half a mind to drag her to the cafeteria right then.

Just then, Mukuro stumbled and fell to one knee.

“Hey, are you okay?” Makoto caught up to her in a few quick steps and reached out to help her.

“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded more pained and exhausted than hostile. Shrugging away his proffered hand, she got to her feet and continued on. Sunlight filtering in through the windows warmed him, but did little to lift his spirits, especially as it threw into even starker contrast Mukuro’s ghostlike state. Finally, reaching the lab, she swiped her handbook. Inside, she collapsed to the ground, leaning back against a wall near the door, eyes closed.

Makoto looked at her with concern. “Do you-”

“Did you tell anyone?” She cut him off. Off-guard, his mouth opened and closed.

“N-no. I said it was an accident.”

She breathed out. He sat across from her. After a few minutes, Makoto could hear his own heartbeat. If not now, when would he talk to her about what had happened? Steeling his nerves, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Sorry?”

He looked away. “I tried to help last Saturday, but I just made things worse.” He paused. “I didn’t know what to do.”

An audible sigh. “It’s not your fault.”

Again, silenced descended. Makoto glanced over at Mukuro again.

“Where… have you been, these past few days? Were you sick?”

“You don’t have time to worry about that.” She said coldly. “We’ve lost a week’s worth of training. If you’re going to complete your task, we need to resume today. Did the nurse give you any instructions before your release from the infirmary?”

Makoto’s objections died in his throat. “She said only light training this week. Next week I can continue my regular routine.”

Mukuro scowled. “Fine. Half your normal workout, then. The rest of the time will go to the firing range.”

“W-wait, before that, I want to know if you’re feeling okay. I haven’t seen you in a week. You look like you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days.”

Her eyes smoldered, and for a long moment she said nothing. Finally, she stared straight at him, eyes chips of blue ice. Makoto recoiled slightly and averted his gaze. The fearsome look in her eyes brooked no discussion.

“If you’re going to waste time, then get out of here. We have a job to do, and that job does not include you nosing around in my life.”

Closing his eyes, frustration welled up within Makoto. How could he possibly understand her, let alone try to help her, if she wouldn’t even talk to him? Smarting at his treatment, he got up and walked towards the mats. As he began his shorter routine, his anger and hurt faded.

Mukuro was clearly suffering right now. The best thing to do would be to bide his time and wait for a better opportunity. Then again, she clearly wasn’t interested in telling him what was happening. Maybe he shouldn’t even try. If he pushed for answers again, she would probably react badly.

But he could not accept her current distress. He had to know what was going on, had to know something about what was putting his partner in such a grave condition.

After his half-routine, Mukuro brought out the weapon he would be using during his test. Holding a long-barreled gray rifle by some cloth wrapped around it, she made her way over to the firing range where Makoto was standing.

“This is the M24. Your task doesn’t specify the size of the target, the weather conditions, or the optics you’re permitted to use. How sloppy. In any case, you’ll have to prepare for every scenario. Try holding this as if you aiming.”

She handed the weapon to him. It felt surprisingly light in his hands. He held up the weapon and pointed it down the range.

“Butt of the gun in the pocket of your firing shoulder.”

“Uh…”

She scowled and adjusted his arm. The stock of the gun now rested firmly on his shoulder.

“Hold it steady. Crouch if you need to.”

Makoto went down to one knee. For the remaining twenty minutes, Mukuro showed him how to operate the weapon, use the safety, load the gun, and adjust its usual optics.

Makoto adjusted the scope until it blurred. “Uh, I think I did something wrong. I can’t see anything through this.”

Mukuro yanked the weapon out of his hands and looked through the sight. She looked at him in disgust.

“You’re hopeless.”

Makoto chuckled at that. “Good thing I have you around, then. Right?”

She stared at him. The exhaustion and pain on her face were clear to see.

“We’re almost out of time. Let’s finish up for today.” She said, voice resigned.

–

In his lab, Mukuro sat in the same chair she had last Saturday, either dozing off or staring into space. He had tried to talk to her, offered her snacks, tried in vain to elicit a response. No matter what he said or did, he couldn’t seem to break through.

That pattern continued throughout the week. In training, Mukuro explained how each step should be performed, demonstrated everything, and, if she wasn’t exactly talkative, she was at least responsive. However, when they went to his lab, Makoto couldn’t get so much as a word or expression out of her. She looked distraught half the time, but she didn’t even tell him to stop bothering her. The lack of a response distressed him more than the insults and scowls he usually provoked.

Worse, Mukuro’s condition didn’t improve during the week. If anything, she looked paler by week’s end. While training, Makoto had observed her own routine to check signs of illness. Though she completed her routine, it was not at the lightning speed he had observed when they first began training. Sometimes, she even seemed out of breath.

By Saturday, Makoto had run out of ideas. He hadn’t made any progress on getting Mukuro to talk to him. Anxiety at her worsening condition gnawed at him. If he had to go another two weeks like this, he’d have a panic attack. On the way to his lab, he decided that he would get answers from her today – no matter what.

–

Mukuro sat in the same armchair as always in Naegi’s lab. The past week had been excruciating. Sleep proved elusive as ever, and her appetite was irregular. She ate on occasion, but the food always tasted bland. Her athletic abilities hadn’t atrophied too much over the week she’d been out of commission, but there was no doubt she wasn’t in any shape to fight or conduct missions. Her usual exercises had been coming harder and harder each day.

In the back of her mind, she knew that malnutrition and exhaustion were to blame. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bring herself to eat more. She could hardly get out of bed every day.

Junko hadn’t visited her again, or talked to her. The two times she had approached Junko, her sister had either ignored her or stalked away. Mukuro was staring to worry that she really had been cut off. She had fulfilled her sister’s demand to show up for class, so why wouldn’t she talk to her? Didn’t more missions need to be carried out?

Anxiety at being ignored festered over the week she returned to school. What if Junko had replaced her? Left her to fend for herself? Her only purpose, gone. At that point, nothing mattered anymore. She might as well lock herself in her room to rot away.

Despair. This was the feeling her sister loved so much? It wasn’t even much of a feeling, just emptiness, like Mukuro had been hollowed out.

Then there was her pest of a partner, Naegi.

She shut down his questioning as soon as she could. Every time she looked at him, though, his eyes got all puppy-dog, which really pissed her off. The first few days he wouldn’t shut up, but later in the week he merely read, did school work, or observed her. Despite her annoyance, she had trouble mustering much anger at him, or any other feeling really. Even at his most incompetent, Mukuro didn’t even feel much annoyance, just a sense of resignation.

Finally, the time to leave Naegi’s lab came. She stood up on unsteady legs and made her way to the door, only to find it blocked by the Ultimate Lucky Student.

“Mukuro.”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

His stark refusal ignited her annoyance, and she glared at him. Naegi flinched, but met her gaze.

“I-I need to know what happened to you last week. Why you look so sick. What… happened the day you took me to the infirmary.”

She grit her teeth. “I told you, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Naegi trembled visibly. “Y-you’re wrong. It is my business. I’m your partner, and I can’t help you with your task unless you talk to me.”

“What are you talking about? Just tell them that we’re friends. It’s not like they can prove you wrong. And if I hold up my end of the bargain, why should you care? Let me out of the damn room.”

She shoved him to the side, and he crashed to the floor. “Owww…” Clenching her fists, she left the lab and slammed the door shut. A volatile cocktail of emotions swirled within her, but her face remained impassive. She felt a smidgeon of regret as she walked down the hallway. That was twice she had led her emotions get the better of her.

Footsteps behind her. She spun around, only to see Naegi running down the hall after her. He came to a stop, out of breath.

“This isn’t about the task!” the boy said between gasps. “This is about you! If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how am I supposed to do anything about it?”

Her fury boiled over. “Who said I wanted you to do anything, you useless bastard?” she spat. “All that connects us is this worthless project, and when that’s done, we never have to interact ever again. Why would you give a damn beyond that?”

Naegi stood up straight and looked her in the eye. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll fail that exam on purpose.”

Stunned, Mukuro said nothing for a moment.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’d get kicked out of Hope’s Peak.”

“Probably.”

“Y-you… you can’t…”

This sudden threat rendered her unable to speak for a moment. Naegi wouldn’t really follow through on this, would he? Then again, Junko had called him unpredictable. She couldn’t be expelled from Hope’s Peak.

“You’re so annoying.” She managed. “Why do you want to know?”

Makoto took a deep breath. “Because… I want to be your friend. Not because of some stupid task. When I see you in pain, it hurts me too. You’re not alone. Please, tell me what’s going on. Let me help, or at least try.”

She couldn’t think of a way out of this situation except to tell Naegi what he wanted to know. Her frustration with the position she had been put in, the stress of the last month, the agony of the last week, and the fury she felt at her own pathetic condition threatened to overwhelm her.

“Fine.” She whispered.

They made their way back to his lab. Mukuro sat, eyes downcast. Naegi sat near her on the couch. For a few minutes, there was silence.

“Last week, I didn’t come in because I didn’t feel like it.” She began in a low voice. “I’m not sick. I just didn’t feel like eating, and I couldn’t sleep. As for what happened the day… the day I lost control, I had a flashback. It was probably the sound of the mortars.”

He nodded. “I figured as much. But why aren’t you eating? Why can’t you sleep? Does that have to do with the flashbacks?”

She sank into her chair, head lowered, feeling defeated.

“I don’t know.”

Again, the room was quiet.

“Thank you for telling me. Sorry for being so insistent, but… I was serious. When you didn’t respond to my texts, I worried about you.”

Another pause. Mukuro felt sick to her stomach, but talking to Naegi didn’t feel bad. Actually, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see shock written all over his face. “Y-you’re… sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have played that game, knowing what might happen. I shouldn’t have pushed you out of my way.”

Her hands had begun to shake. The iron grip she kept on her emotions, battered by the events of the past weeks, had slackened. A solitary tear ran down her cheek.

“H-hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. That didn’t even hurt, really.” His voice sounded a little panicked. “Are you okay?”

A hot lump in her throat prevented her from responding. Steeling herself, she managed a few words.

“Could you leave me alone for a minute?”

“Yeah. Yeah. No problem.” He said, rising and backing away towards the door. “Just come out when you’re ready to. No rush.”

She heard the door close with a click. Just like that, the torrent of emotions she had strained to control broke lose, and she sobbed openly into her crossed arms, curled up in a ball on the chair.

–

Makoto nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his lab door opening. Out walked Mukuro, eyes red, but otherwise collected. For the first time in a long time, he felt like they’d gotten somewhere in his lab. And this time, he had avoided a kick to the face.

“Why don’t we grab something to eat from the cafeteria?” He suggested. She hesitated, then nodded, face expressionless. They made their way downstairs. Reaching the cafeteria doors, he could make out voices inside.

“Do you want me to grab something for you? Then we can go eat somewhere else, or back in my lab, whatever.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “Do I look like an invalid to you?”

“N-no, but-”

She pushed past him into the cafeteria. Distracted, he followed after. Only a few people occupied the cafeteria despite its vastness. A few tables away, he spotted Sakura, Aoi, Leon, and Sayaka eating together. Mukuro made no attempt to join them, veering off to the right and sitting at a table near the edge of the room. Makoto followed her, slung his backpack down, and began to make his way over to the lunch counter, but his partner did not follow.

Glancing over at the table where his classmates sat, he noticed that Sayaka was looking towards where he and Mukuro sat. She winked and turned back to her companions, but not before Aoi also noticed Makoto.

“HEY! Makoto! Come eat with us!”

He scratched the back of his head and walked over. “Hey. You guys finished with your labs as well?”

Sayaka gave Aoi a disapproving look, but then turned to Makoto. “Yeah, Leon was just practicing. He’s getting better every day.”

“Of course!” Leon said proudly. “What else did you expect from the future Ultimate Musician!”

“I don’t know about that,” Aoi replied, “but like, Sakura and I just wrapped up our swimming practice! I’m glad we do martial arts first. Swimming’s a great way to cool down afterwards.”

“Indeed. Hina is a natural martial artist. With more training, she could be one of the best in Japan.”

“Awww.” Aoi’s cheeks reddened. “I’m not as good as all that.”

“Ah, Makoto, if you have other commitments, you don’t have to sit with us.” Sayaka said gently.

“What? No way this guy has other commitments.” Leon replied roughly. “Er, no offense.”

“Rude!” Aoi exclaimed.

“None taken, though actually Sayaka’s right.” Makoto said. “Sorry. I made plans to eat with Mukuro.”

Sayaka smiled, but Aoi gave him a worried look. “She’s the Ultimate Soldier, right? You could, like, both come over and join us, if you want.”

Leon grinned. “What’s the big idea, Aoi? Makoto’s got a lunch date, and here you are trying to interfere.”

Aoi pouted and gave Leon a dirty look as he cracked up. Makoto held his hands up in protest. “N-nothing like that. But… it’s probably best if we eat alone today. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Take care.” Sayaka said, pinching Leon’s cheek.

“Ow! Ow! It was just a joke! Ow, that hurts, Sayaka!” he complained.

She smiled sweetly at Leon. Aoi starting laughing, and even Sakura chuckled.

“I’ll see you all later.” Makoto said, raising a hand in farewell.

“Bye!” Aoi chirped.

He went to the lunch counter and grabbed a sandwich. Casting a glance back towards where Mukuro sat, he took another for good measure. Making his way back, he sat down to find her staring into space.

“What’s wrong?” He pushed one of the sandwiches over to her.

She pursed her lips. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

“You don’t have to eat it, but I think you should have something.”

“What are you, my mother? I can take care of myself.”

Despite her words, she began to nibble at the sandwich. Makoto resisted the urge to smile. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Hey.” Mukuro glared at him across the table. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine.

“W-what?”

“If you tell anyone what happened in your lab, I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Jeez, don’t make such a scary joke.”

Her eyes were deadly serious. “As long as we’re clear.”

They continued to eat. Finishing his sandwich, Makoto thought about what a strange day they’d had. He finally got his answers from Mukuro, but she was still in bad shape. Maybe he could use his lab time to help her out. Looking over, though she had put a sizable dent in the sandwich he had brought, it didn’t seem like she was inclined to eat any more.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

She nodded. They got rid of their trash and pushed open the double doors leading into the cafeteria. Outside, Makoto stopped, unsure of what to do. Though their labs were over, it almost felt wrong to end things here. Mukuro’s face was, as usual, expressionless, and her eyes were closed.

“I’m serious about you eating.” Makoto said. “And sleeping, too. You’ve looked tired the past few days. If you want, you can sleep during my lab. It’s not that long, but I can bring blankets and stuff.”

She returned his gaze and narrowed her eyes. Anticipating a scathing response, Makoto braced himself. Instead-

“Thanks.”

Her voice was still toneless, but the unexpected gratitude caught him off guard. He almost grinned.

“Sure. I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

She nodded in affirmation, turned, and walked off. Makoto watched her go for a while before turning around to leave himself. The anxiety weighing him down the past few days had not abated entirely, but he felt lighter. Mukuro had confided in him. Even if it was under duress, they had made a breakthrough. Makoto found himself looking forward to the next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends,
> 
> Thank you for reading Chapter 8.
> 
> For all those who leave comments, especially those of you who leave one every week, know that I appreciate it. It's quite easy to lose perspective when you write, at least for me. Your comments help to keep me grounded. Thank you.
> 
> As always, I hope that everyone is healthy.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


	9. Bento

“ _hey, do you know how to cook?_ ”

“ _Isn’t that a bit forward of you?_ ”

“ _i’m serious. i’m trying to learn how to make a good bento box_ ”

“ _I can make a few things, but if you’re trying to learn, you would be better off with someone more experienced. I heard that the Ultimate Cook’s in the class above ours from my friend Ibuki. Try asking him for help._ ”

“ _thanks, i will_ ”

“ _It’s the heart that counts, you know. I’m sure Mukuro will love whatever you make <3_”

“ _it’s not like that. anyway, I’ll let you know how it goes_ ”

“ _Sure, sure. Good luck._ ”

Maybe Sayaka just had him figured out.

Their back-and-forth had brought Makoto to the door of Class 1-B on Monday morning. Hesitating before the door, self-consciousness began to get the better of him. It would be a little awkward to just walk in and ask for the Ultimate Cook. Backing away from the door, he scratched his chin. There had to be a less obtrusive way to go about this…

“Pardon me, do you need something from our class?”

Makoto jerked his head towards the sound of the voice, coming face-to-face with a foreign girl in a Hope’s Peak uniform. She had pale blond hair, blue eyes, and an intimidating poise about her. Resisting the urge to kneel, he managed to respond.

“Y-yes, I heard the Ultimate Cook was in this class. I wanted to ask him for help.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Yes, you’re looking for Teruteru. Have no fear, I’ll introduce you at once.” With that, she opened the door and strolled inside, Makoto following meekly behind.

“Good morning, friends!” She said cheerily.

A few girls were already sitting together in a group, and turned to face her.

“Hey, Sonia.” A girl with short red hair said. Her eyes drifted to Makoto. “Who’s this?”

A tiny blonde-haired girl next to her snickered. “What a shrimp.”

The foreign girl, who Makoto supposed was named Sonia, held out her hand as if to issue a royal decree. “Now, now, Hiyoko. There’s no need to be rude.” She turned to Makoto, smiling. “Would you mind introducing yourself?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m Makoto Naegi. I’m a student of Class 78.”

“Right on! Nice to meetcha, junior.” A girl with long, multicolored hair exclaimed, grinning. “Ibuki’s name is Ibuki Mioda!”

This must be Sayaka’s friend. Makoto could feel her boundless energy radiating off in waves.

The red-haired girl smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mahiru Koizumi.”

Sonia covered her mouth. “How boorish of me. I never introduced myself properly, did I? I am Princess Sonia Nevermind, daughter of King Kristo IV of Novoselic.” She curtsied. Overwhelmed by her regal display, Makoto said nothing, standing with his mouth ajar.

Mahiru chuckled. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

Sonia looked at her, confused. “Did I do something wrong? I thought I had learned the customs of this country by now, but perhaps-”

“Nothing like that.” Mahiru cut her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sonia blinked, still uncomprehending. Mahiru looked at Makoto. “Sorry, but do you need something from our class? Not that you’re unwelcome or anything, but we don’t usually get visits from you guys.”

“Right…” Makoto felt sheepish. “I was looking for the Ultimate Cook.”

Mahiru raised an eyebrow. “Teruteru? He hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I wanted to ask him for help.”

“Well, I guess that’s fine.” She pursed her lips. “As long as it’s not anything perverted.”

“N-nothing like that! I need help making a lunch box for one of my friends.”

“A likely story.” The short, blonde-haired girl chimed in.

Sonia looked thoughtful. “Doesn’t he usually spend lunch in his lab? Akane eats there sometimes. You might be better off looking for him at lunch. He doesn’t always show up for homeroom, no matter how much Ms. Yukizome scolds him.”

“He _wants_ her to scold him.” Mahiru chided.

“You have the E-Handbook, right?” Sonia asked. “You should be able to search for his lab. If you have a free lunch, look for him there.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.” Makoto replied. “I should get to homeroom. Nice to meet all of you.”

“Of course. Stop by anytime.” Sonia said cheerily.

“Yeah. Actually-” Mahiru whipped out a camera and snapped a photo before he could react. “Sorry. I wanted a candid photo of you. Eventually, I’ll have one for all our juniors.”

“See ya later, guy. Say hi to Sayaka for Ibuki.” Ibuki gave a mock salute.

“Sure.” He turned to leave, pushing the door open. It slammed into something on the other side. He heard a person fall to the ground.

“Owww…”

Makoto peered outside, finding a student sitting on the ground. He had wavy, shoulder-length white hair and wore the uniform of a Main Course student. Rubbing his head, the boy rose to his feet.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you over. Are you okay?”

“No, no, it’s my bad.” He said. “Someone like me has no right to complain about being knocked over by a true symbol of hope.”

Makoto paused to take in this strange response. “Um, right.”

The boy eyed Makoto. “What’s your name?”

“Makoto. Makoto Naegi.”

“What’s your talent?”

Makoto felt a little uncomfortable. “Um, I don’t really have one… I was selected to attend Hope’s Peak through a lottery.”

The boy broke out in a wide grin. “I see. Well, even if our talent is pretty worthless, it’s still a talent, you know?”

“Our talent…?”

“I got in the exact same way. You’re the Ultimate Lucky Student, right?”

“Um, yeah.”

The boy nodded, then blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you. Your homeroom starts soon as well, right? Do your best to support your classmates. I look forward to seeing you again.” With that, he brushed past Makoto into the classroom, leaving the younger Ultimate Lucky Student lost for words.

Who was that boy? There was something a little unsettling about the way he spoke. He had called their shared talent worthless, and though Makoto wasn’t sure how to feel about his Ultimate title, the older boy’s attitude felt off. Shrugging off the encounter, Makoto headed towards his homeroom.

–

At lunch, Makoto knocked on the lab door of the Ultimate Cook. “Anyone here?”

After a brief pause, the door swung open. A tan girl with long chestnut hair stood blocking the doorway in an ill-fitting blouse and red miniskirt. Makoto immediately looked away, cheeks red.

“Huh? Who’re you? Teru, you know this guy?”

A short student wearing a chef’s hat, arms a blur behind the counter, glanced over. “No. What’s he want?”

“What d’you want?” the girl repeated.

Makoto slowly turned his head, careful to meet her eyes. “I wanted to ask for help. Can I come in, please?”

The girl shrugged. “Sure.”

She stood aside, and Makoto walked in. The aroma of something wonderful cooking stopped him in his tracks for a moment. The lab featured an impressive kitchen, with appliances and ingredients littering the counters. Cabinets and counters ran along the walls, with an island in the center. Two sinks sat opposite each other, one filled with newly-washed vegetables, the other empty. A few stools stood in front of the island. The person behind it, who Makoto assumed was Teruteru, didn’t look up.

“What can I help you with? Oh, but before that, who are you?”

“Makoto Naegi. I’m in Class 78.”

“Right, right, our juniors… quite a few beauties in your class, aren’t there? Count yourself lucky.”

“Um, I guess so.”

His hands glided across the counter, at once moving with blinding speed and with immense care. Just watching made Makoto’s head spin.

“Teru, lunch’ll be ready soon, right?” The girl sat on one of the stools and looked at the Ultimate Cook eagerly.

“You can’t rush greatness… but yes, it will.” He replied softly. The girl looked sideways at Makoto.

“So, what did you want, Marcus?”

Makoto decided to forge ahead. “One of my friends has been having trouble eating lately, and I figured that if I could cook something delicious, it would help her eat properly again. I came to ask if you would teach me how to make a lunch box.”

For a moment, Teruteru didn’t respond.

“I can’t. People come to me asking to be taught this and that all the time. It wouldn’t be fair to accept your request after refusing all the others. Plus, I only do favors for girls.”

Indignation sparked in Makoto, and it must have showed.

Teruteru chuckled. “Easy there. That was a joke. It seems I have a very serious junior on my hands, but I still can’t accept.”

“But it’s not for me, it’s for my friend!”

“If your girlfriend isn’t eating, it’s probably not the food. There’s some other issue.”

Makoto couldn’t answer that.

“Hey, Teru, why can’t you help him out? My gut tells me he’s not like those other people asking for lessons. Oh, if you teach him during lunch, and he messes up, I can just eat whatever’s left!”

“But if I’m teaching him, how am I supposed to make lunch for you?”

“Just do both at the same time. You got two arms, don’tcha?”

Teruteru actually stopped what he was doing and looked straight at her. “You say the most unreasonable things sometimes, you know that? I can’t cook with just one arm. I mean, I guess I could, but what I made wouldn’t be as good. That’s unprofessional. You still want me to make you lunch, right?”

“Are you kiddin’? This is my favorite part of the day. Well, maybe tied with fightin’ Coach.”

Teruteru gave a small smile and continued to cook. “I’m glad, but that makes it tough to teach our junior. Right?”

The girl scratched her ear and growled softly.

“Still,” she said, “feels wrong to turn down a junior’s request for help.”

For a while, nobody spoke. Makoto stood stiffly, unsure of what to say or do.

“Hey, junior.” Teruteru said finally. “Do you need to make the box yourself? I could put something simple together before lunch, during my lab. Just swing by and pick it up.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you every day. That’s why I wanted to learn in the first place.” Makoto replied.

“I suppose it’s not a long-term solution. In that case-”

“Hey, Teru.” The girl interjected, a pained expression on her face. “I wouldn’t mind… skipping a lunch… or two… if you help Marcus out.”

Teruteru glanced at the girl with concern. “Are you sure about that?”

She wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll just think of it like… a test of strength. To see how long I can go without your cooking.” Her voice wavered, betraying any façade of resolve.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure I can work something else out…” Makoto said, surprised by her emotional outburst.

Teruteru rubbed his chin in thought. “It won’t be as grand, but I’ll put something small together for you before I teach our junior. The Ultimate Cook should be able to manage that much.”

“Ah, you’re the best, Teru.” She blubbered. “It’s only a day or two… I need to go fight somethin’. I’ll be back for lunch!” She rushed out of the lab.

“Making a girl cry like that…” Teruteru shook his head. “Nothing gets her as emotional as food does. She must really want me to help you, junior. I hope you appreciate it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was so important to her. If it’s that burdensome, you don’t have to show me.”

“No, she would clock me if I went back on my word now. Besides, this is for a girl, in the end- even if it’s your girlfriend.”

“Um, she’s not my girlfriend.” Makoto replied. “And she’d probably kill me if she heard you say that.”

Teruteru laughed. “Sure. You know, they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but ladies love a good meal too. Food is universal.”

“…Is that why you make lunch for her?” Makoto asked.

His grin faded. “Not anymore.”

They stood in silence, oven humming in the background.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.”

“It’s no big deal. I’m just used to suspicion.” Teruteru muttered. “Akane had a rough time growing up. Originally, I did do it to make her like me, but now… all I know is that I like to cook for her, so I do.”

“That’s nice of you.”

The Ultimate Cook grimaced. “I don’t know about that. Anyway, come back here tomorrow, and we’ll get started.”

Makoto gave a small bow. “Thanks. I really appreciate it- both you and Akane.”

Teruteru smiled again. “Sure, sure. Don’t make a habit of this though, junior, or I’ll have to charge you. Big-city chefs like myself need to keep up appearances, after all.”

–

After his lab, Mukuro walked to lunch with Naegi. The past couple days, he had been going to the Ultimate Cook’s lab during lunch. Naegi had tried to conceal this from her, but suspicious of his intentions, she had followed him discreetly. Upon determining that he wasn’t up to anything harmful, she left him to his own devices and sat alone.

Reaching their usual spot for lunch, Mukuro spotted some kind of flyer on the table. It advertised a protest against bad treatment by the Hope’s Peak security team, organized by something called the “Reserve Course Action Committee”. Strange. When she and Junko had researched Hope’s Peak, no student organization like that had come up. Why was a flyer like this in the Main Course cafeteria, anyway?

Junko. What was she up to? What had happened to the plan?

If it was important, she reassured herself, Junko would have contacted her. A small, treasonous voice in her head whispered that it might be better if Junko never reached out to her. But without her sister, Mukuro had no reason or desire to keep living.

“What’s that?” Naegi picked up the flyer. “Reserve Course Action Committee? Protesting… bad treatment by Hope’s Peak security?” He threw her a concerned look over the flyer. “Is that true?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” She said, sitting down. “Not like it’s our problem.”

“Still, doesn’t it bother you at all? I mean, it’s already weird that we don’t eat or live with the Reserve Course students. Now they’re saying security treats them badly. Maybe I’ll check it out.”

She glared at him. “No matter how many people protest, the people who run the school won’t care.”

“But if Main Course students showed up as well, wouldn’t they have to listen?”

“If they threatened to expel you, would you show up?”

At this, Naegi looked away. “I… I don’t know. Would they really do something like that?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past them.” From researching Hope’s Peak, Mukuro had learned that the school’s administration did not take kindly to complaints from the Reserve Course. Several students had been expelled just for publicly speaking out. Considering Juzo Sakakura’s profile, she wouldn’t be surprised if the administration dispersed student protests by force. The last thing she needed was Naegi ending up in the infirmary again.

For minute or so, they sat in silence.

“I’m glad you got some sleep in my lab. You looked really tired this morning.”

Her nightmares had not abated, so she had taken up Naegi’s offer and napped during his lab. The room had a soothing effect on her, and it was one of the only places she could catch some sleep.

Scratching the back of his head, Naegi looked sheepish. Taking something from his bag- a bento box, by the look of it- he gently pushed it across the table, towards her.

“Here, I made this for you. Eat up.”

She eyed the box silently, then opened it up. Inside was some chicken katsu, rice, and broccoli.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten all day. Come on, just try it.”

Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, she lowered her gaze to the bento box. She hadn’t lied about not having an appetite, but Naegi would probably pester her until she tried it. Resigning herself to a mediocre bento box, she took the prepackaged chopsticks and ate a piece of the chicken.

Mukuro’s eyes widened a fraction. She took another bite, and then another.

What the hell? This mediocre lunch box might have been the best thing she’d tasted in months. Before Mukuro knew it, she had wolfed down the rest of the box.

“You… made this?” She asked, still staring at the now-empty box.

“Yeah. I had some help, though.”

So that’s what he had been doing in the Ultimate Cook’s lab. At least, that would explain the quality of the box.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. You still haven’t been eating properly, and I thought that maybe I could make you something. If you like, I could put together a box like that every day.”

Her face remained impassive, but inside she felt conflicted. On the one hand, she still resented Naegi’s insistence on meddling in her life. If she accepted his offer, it wouldn’t be long before he pressed to know more about her. Whatever happened, she had to conceal as much as possible from him, especially regarding the plan. A rejection might dissuade him from trying to learn more… but that was probably wishful thinking.

Besides, she hadn’t eaten something that delicious in a long time.

“If you insist.” Mukuro finally replied.

“Thanks.” With a grin, he pulled the box back. Was he teasing her? She glared at him again.

“Hey, stop giving me such a scary look. I’m going to grab something for myself. Want anything?”

“No.”

With that, he rose and walked to the lunch counter. She watched him for a minute, then looked back to the empty box. Without realizing it, Mukuro had shown weakness. If she couldn’t even control herself in front of that dope, what hope did she have on a mission? Maybe Junko had been right to keep her in the dark. At this rate, she wouldn’t be useful to anybody.

She shook her head. More idle thoughts.

Naegi returned, and for once they sat in quiet while he ate.

“…Thanks.”

He looked up in surprise. “For what?”

She gave him an irritated look. “Do I really need to spell it out?”

“No, I guess not.” Continuing to eat, she saw a tiny smile on his face.

–

That night, Mukuro went to her lab. Before she had confined herself to the apartment, on occasion she had come to her lab to train. Tonight, she was throwing knives at targets down the range. Once upon a time, the thud of a blade striking the bullseye had brought her great satisfaction. Nowadays, it was just a time killer.

The faint sound of the door opening alerted her to someone’s presence. Quick as a flash, she turned around and deflected a blade thrown at her seconds before. Before Mukuro knew it, she had drawn her handgun and aimed it straight at the head of the person who’d thrown the knife.

“My, my, finally quit sulking, have we?” Junko jeered.

Mukuro lowered the gun. Her sister stood by the door, arms crossed and face disapproving.

“Is this lab bugged?”

“No, I checked it as soon as I arrived.”

Junko walked towards the exercise mats, surveying the lab. “So, this is where you get all hot and heavy with Lucky Boy, eh? As if.” She laughed coldly.

Mukuro said nothing.

Junko turned to glare at her. “What’s wrong, sister dear? Not keen on seeing me? Well, rest assured, the feeling is mutual. Seeing your ugly mug can only be described as a day-ruining experience.” She stalked towards Mukuro until they were face-to-face. “Your pathetic condition has cost us precious time, and now you’re going to make up for it.”

“What can I do?”

“Kill the prime minister.”

Mukuro’s face betrayed nothing. “Already?”

“Originally, some other members of the government would have come first, but thanks to a certain useless bitch, I had to accelerate things.”

“A mission like that could take months to prepare for.”

“You have a month. Also, conduct another bombing within the next three weeks. Time it to occur closer to the assassination of the prime minister for dramatic effect.”

“He’ll tighten his own security after another attack.”

Junko sneered. “Sounds like a you problem. Get it done. I’ll be busy setting things up here, so I won’t be able to micromanage your every move. Try not to let your incompetence get the better of you, or I’ll kill you.”

“Of course.”

Junko smiled. “That’s a good girl.” Suddenly, she slammed her foot onto Mukuro’s.

Instant, blinding pain consumed her entire leg. Blood spurted from the foot. Falling to her knee, Mukuro bit her lip trying not to cry out. Though she could have easily avoided Junko’s foot, Mukuro had learned over the years that it was better to take the first punishment than avoid it and be surprised later. Her sister did not take kindly to defiance.

Even so, this pain felt worse than anything Junko had inflicted on her before. Her sister’s heel had a spike on it, that was obvious, but it didn’t explain the worsening agony coursing through her entire body.

Junko withdrew her foot. “Gross. Thanks for ruining one of my favorite heels, bitch.” Dazed, Mukuro raised her head only to receive a massive blow from Junko’s hands, folded together in a ball. Her head slammed into the ground, unbearable pain screaming through her nervous system.

“In case you were wondering, I coated the heel in a little something special I cooked up in the school lab.” She giggled. “It causes excruciating pain for a few hours. But you know, that pain is nothing compared to what I’ve suffered the past few days interacting with that arrogant prick Byakuya. I thought I told you to kill the head of the Togami conglomerate, and instead you pissed the days away in your apartment. Add that to your little to-do list this month. Hopefully three things aren’t too much for that tiny brain of yours.”

Still writhing on the ground, Mukuro could only stay conscious. Responding was out of the question.

“It’s possible I overdid it on the pain-inducers.” Junko stated matter-of-factly. She had donned her academic persona. “Try not to bleed out, all right?” Mukuro could hear her sister walking over to the door, her heels clicking across the ground.

She leaned up, but even the slightest movement proved excruciating. However, if her wound was allowed to fester, she could bleed to death. Minimizing her movement, she grabbed the knife Junko had thrown at her off the floor. Cutting her blouse open, she ripped it off and wrapped it around the gash in her foot. Using the knife, she crafted a makeshift tourniquet to stop the worst of the bleeding. Next, she elevated her leg on one of the empty weapon racks nearby. First aid completed, she laid back on the floor, defeated. The only coherent thought she could piece together was a burning desire for the pain to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers,
> 
> My apologies for the long delay in this chapter's release. I suffered a false start, and felt it would be better to rewrite than to press forward with something I didn't like. Nevertheless, I make no excuses for my poor work ethic. I can only ask for your understanding.
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Expect the next one more promptly.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Cosmonaut


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